“I will not warn ye again,” he said in a low, dangerous tone. Then he shoved him back down to the ground, mounted Strider, and rode away toward camp without another word.
*****
Aidan did not see much of Graeme in the days that followed. He supposed the man was probably avoiding him. Which was just as well, really. The sight of him made Aidan’s blood boil.
He busied himself around the camp and tried not to dwell too much on the matter. It was easier said than done, though.
He had not gone back to see Rhona again. He didn’t know what he could say to her, didn’t even know where to begin. And there was a part of him that was quietly afraid that she would want nothing more to do with him. But he could not put it off any longer, he decided. He needed to see her.
He mounted Strider and rode into the forest.
*****
Rhona sat and stared absently into the fire as she listened to her father gently snoring. She kept thinking about his words from the other day. She felt sure he had known Aidan was coming, and that he had thought it was important for her to know that he was a good man.
Not that it mattered now, she supposed. She doubted she would see him again after her little episode at their last encounter. She sighed and rose from her chair and made her way to the door. She had just stepped outside and shut the door when a horse and rider emerged from the trees.
Her hands flew to her mouth and her heart leapt in her chest. Aidan had come back. She hadn’t realized until that moment that she truly had not expected to ever see him again. She lifted her skirt and ran to meet him.
Neither of them said anything when they met in the center of the clearing. Aidan dismounted and stood before her in silence. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Rhona took a step closer to him and placed her hand gently against his cheek.
Aidan wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and kiss her as deeply as he possibly could, but he dared not.
“I am sorry,” he said after a long moment.
At that, Rhona wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard on the mouth. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around her, as though she were a porcelain doll that might shatter if handled too roughly.
Rhona pulled away and looked at him. She knew why he was treating her so carefully and she loved him for it. The truth of it hit her as she thought it. She loved him more deeply than she had ever thought possible.
She did not break eye contact as she took his hand and slowly placed it on her breast. She felt a bit brash in doing so, but she needed for him to know that it was ok for him to touch her after what had happened the last time.
There was a long moment of charged silence between them before Aidan leaned down to kiss her, gently at first, and then with growing intensity. It was like a dam had broken. The intensity of her need fed the fire of his.
He carried her to the edge of the tree line where he laid her down at the foot of a great oak. He paused momentarily to look into her eyes. Had he seen any hint of doubt or fear in them he would have stopped. But her eyes shone with a fiery passion to match his own.
He pulled her skirt up to her waist as she freed the hard length of him from his kilt. She cried out as he entered her. She thrust her hips upward against him, lost in the sensation of the throbbing heat between her legs. They moved in rhythm with one another, a perfect harmony. He thrust harder as he felt the hot wetness of her throbbing with pleasure. Both of them cried out as they reached completion together.
He slowed, but did not stop. He continued to move inside her until he was hard again. This time their lovemaking was gentler, each of them savoring the other. When they were both spent he looked down at her, caressing her face. She smiled back up at him.
After a long moment he kissed her deeply before sitting up and pulling her skirt back down to cover her again. Then he pulled her onto his lap as he leaned against the oak. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder. She rested her arms on his and leaned her head against him.
Neither of them spoke for a long while. Instead they held onto one another and lapsed into a comfortable silence. The sun had begun to sink toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the ground.
“I must be going soon,” he said softly.
“Aye,” she said. “I know.”
They stood reluctantly and he took her hands in his.
“I will see you again soon,” he told her.
He gave her one more kiss before mounting Strider and riding away into the woods. Rhona made her way back to the cottage and sat down before the fire once more. Her father still snored lightly. A small smile played at her lips as she gazed into the flames. She felt lighter and happier.
*****
True to his word, Aidan made his way back to the cottage in the clearing as soon as he was able. It became their custom to meet at the edge of the tree line beneath the great oak. They did not always make love. Sometimes they talked for hours and at other times they merely sat in silence, each of them content with the fact of the other’s presence.
Neither of them spoke of the war, though it weighed heavily on their minds. Rhona feared that Aidan would soon have to ride off to the next battle, leaving her with nothing but a memory. Aidan shared her fear.
They were sitting together beneath the great oak one afternoon. It was cooler in its shade than in the sunlight and Rhona had his cloak wrapped around her shoulders against the chill. She had had it since their first meeting and today she had retrieved it from her room when she had heard strider’s hoof beats approaching. She and Aidan had been sitting in silence for some time now.
She leaned over and kissed him. It was a small kiss at first, but then she began to kiss him more deeply as her need rose up within her. It was more than merely a physical need. She needed to feel, at least for a time, that he would always be a part of her.
Her heartbeat quickened as he pulled her onto his lap. She positioned herself so that she sat astride him and looked down at him for a long moment. His need burned in his eyes as furiously as her own.
She pressed her mouth against his as she reached down and took the length of him in her hand. She felt herself grow wet as he hardened at her touch. She stroked him slowly, savoring the feeling of his hardness against her palm.
After a few moments she pulled her skirts aside and placed the tip against her. She slowly worked him inside of her, going a little deeper each time she moved her hips. He let out a low groan as she began to rock her hips faster and faster.
A hot, electric feeling took hold between her legs as he moved inside her, slowly spreading until it had consumed all of her. The feeling of him throbbing inside her as he reached completion pushed her over the edge into sheer bliss.
They rested against each other for a while, each of them trying to catch their breath. Finally she sat up and looked down at him, her hair falling in disheveled curls on either side of her face.
“Why do ye fight?” she asked him. He thought it over for a moment before he answered her.
“Why are any of us fighting?” he said with a shrug. “For freedom.”
“Aye,” she said thoughtfully. She was silent for a long moment. “I do not wish to lose ye,” she finally said.
“Aye,” he replied. “I know.” He pulled her close to him and they fell silent again.
Her words hung with him as he made his way back to the camp. It was something that had been haunting him. He had never before had any concern about what happened to him. It didn’t matter that he might die in the next battle or the one after that. He had chosen to live by the sword and he had accepted it as a matter of course that he would die by it. The cause, the fight for freedom had been justification enough. It had been all that mattered.
Except that wasn’t true anymore.
*****
Aidan peered through the trees as he rode Strider through the woods. Something didn’t feel right, though he couldn’t quite place what it was. He stopped for a moment, listening, but
the only sounds that reached him were the cries of the birds in the trees.
He continued on through the woods, his uneasiness growing as he drew nearer to the clearing where Rhona’s cottage stood. His hair was nearly standing on end by the time he reached the edge of the clearing. Aidan felt like he had been punched in the stomach when he came within sight of the great oak.
Graeme had Rhona’s arms pinned behind her back and a knife pressed against her throat. His nose was grossly misshapen and had not yet healed from when Aidan had broken it. He smiled in smug satisfaction. Rhona’s eyes shone with an odd, frenzied combination of fear and rage. Tears ran down her cheeks. Aidan’s blood boiled at the sight.
“Well, well, well. So this is where ye’ve been going off to, is it?” Graeme taunted. “We’ve been waiting for ye. Isn’t that right, lassie?”
Rhona’s eyes flashed with a fury that almost completely eclipsed her fear. Aidan dismounted and drew his sword, his mouth pressed into a thin, angry line.
“Oh, now ye don’t want to be doing that now, do ye?” Graeme said mockingly. Rhona cried out involuntarily as he pressed his knife harder against her throat and its blade bit into her skin. Aidan met her eyes helplessly as he came to a stop.
“What the hell do ye want, Graeme?” he asked softly.
Graeme laughed, pressing himself close against Rhona. “I want ye to watch,” he said with malice.
It was all Aidan could do not to lunge at him. He knew that if he did Graeme would cut Rhona’s throat. He remained silent for a long moment until he felt that he could trust himself to speak.
“I told ye before that I would not warn ye again. Let. Her. Go.”
Graeme snorted loudly and began to laugh, but his laugh was cut short as Rhona dug her heel into his foot. It was enough to catch him off guard and she managed to wrench herself free of his grasp. Aidan lost no time in stepping between them.
He did not give Graeme the chance to utter another word. Graeme’s eyes went wide with shock and he uttered a weak cry as Aidan ran him through with his blade. He crumpled to the ground with a dull thud and blood pooled beneath him as Aidan pulled the blade free. He dropped the sword to the ground and pulled Rhona into his arms.
The truth of what he had just done hit him with the force of a tidal wave. True, he had taken many lives in the heat of combat. But this was different. It seemed a truer taking of life somehow, this killing that was not cloaked in the haze of battle. But it didn’t matter, he decided. He would take a thousand lives if he had to do so to protect her.
*****
They burned Graeme’s remains. They stood in silence, their fingers tightly intertwined, as they watched the flames rise up to lick at the twilight sky. The sword they left lying on the ground where Aidan had dropped it. He had no intention of taking it up again. The war could go on without him. His place was here with Rhona. When the last rays of sunlight had abandoned the sky she turned to him.
“I need to go look after my da,” she told him. “He’ll be wondering where I got off to.”
“Aye,” he agreed. “I’ll look after this and make sure it doesn’t spread,” he said, indicating the fire.
She wrapped her arms around him, not wanting to leave the safety that she felt there. He was reluctant to let her go as well.
“Go on,” he finally said, giving her a kiss on the top of her head. Even as he did it the gesture seemed odd given the circumstances. “I’ll be here when ye wake.”
She gave him a small, sad smile before leaving to pick her way back to the cottage in the dark. Aidan brooded as he watched the flames. The hours passed with a terrible slowness. He feared that what had happened would change the way that Rhona felt for him. He had done it to protect her, and he knew that she knew that. But he was afraid that the sight of him killing a man might be something that she wouldn’t be able to get over.
The flames had died down by the time the gray light of dawn crept over the horizon. The clouds obscured the sun and the wind stirred the ashes of the fire. Aidan had almost drifted off when he saw Rhona approaching. He stood to greet her.
“Won’t ye come in from the cold?” she asked, looking up at him.
He felt the tension inside of him dissipate like fog before the morning sun. Something in her eyes told him that they were going to be ok.
They made their way back to the cottage hand in hand. Aidan paused when they reached the door.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t come in just yet,” he said, looking down at himself. He was covered in soot and ash and Graeme’s blood.
“Aye,” Rhona said with a grimace. “Perhaps not.”
“I’ll return before nightfall,” he told her. He made his way back to where Strider was still tethered, mounted up, and headed toward Killburne Creek. When he had reached the tree line he found Graeme’s horse still tethered there. He untied it and set it on its way with a sharp slap to the rump. It would find its way back to camp on its own. Aidan himself had no intention of returning there.
He made his way to the creek upstream from the camp and waded into its waters. He washed the blood off his hands, watching as it swirled and dissipated in the water of the creek. Once his hands were clean he splashed some water onto his face, partly to clean it and partly to clear his head.
When he was done he rode back through the woods to Rhona’s cottage. He found that he was more at peace than he would have thought about leaving his old life behind. He paused at the edge of the clearing and looked down at the cottage where smoked curled gently up from the chimney. This was his home now and this was where he intended to stay. He rode across the clearing and tethered Strider. He paused again when he reached the door, but this time he did so with a smile. On the other side of the door he knew was the woman who held his heart.
*****
Rhona and Aidan were married in the spring. Neither of them went near the great oak again, nor spoke of what had happened that day. Aidan’s sword still remained where he had dropped it.
They had three children—two sons and a daughter—and Rhona’s father lived long enough to meet his grandchildren. He died peacefully in his sleep seven years after Aidan and Rhona were wed.
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Chapter One
Sometimes Agnes couldn't believe her terrible luck. Her father had just moved them to England for a position he had gotten at the royal court. Scarcely had they unpacked their trunks than the first war for Scottish independence ring out across the land.
Agnes' mother Hariot was overjoyed to see how prescient her husband was to avert an absolute catastrophe for the family by using his political prowess to buy them safety in England. Agnes' sympathies lay at the opposite end of the spectrum, and she was disgusted with her father for betraying their homeland and becoming a shill for King Edward.
What was even more infuriating was the fact that, while she sat on her derriere, just eating the plentiful food and looking out the window of her room, somewhere in the distance her countrymen were starving because of the war interrupting the growing season. Though this was the first time she ever really got to experience this sort of frustration and longing as the daughter of an aristocrat, the fact that she had never before had to experience this made it that much worse.
The idle occupations that at one point she might have found agreeable, or even enjoyable at times, were now inane at best, and infuriating at worst. Her temper was a volatile thing that she could not always control. Her parents and the servants both suffered from these outbursts of temper, but neither could explain them. For as privileged as she was to have a fine house, a waiting staff and plenty of food, she acted as though she were seriously deprived.
Of course, in Agnes' mind, she was depriv
ed of something more important than delicate foods or fine clothing could ever be. She was deprived of the feeling of self-worth, and nothing was more important to her at this point in time.
Agnes was a Scottish woman, her father's defecting be damned. She didn't want to be living under the same roof as a man who would throw away his country at the drop of a pen. She wanted to help Scotland while it was struggling to maintain its autonomy.
It was unbearable to think that she was living in a safe manor with all the comforts that were afforded to aristocrats while her people suffered. So, she chose to take flight during the night, when no one would be able to stop her.
Therefore, on the sixth day after moving into the manor, Agnes packed up a trunk of only the essentials for her journey, and then left in the quiet of the night, mounting her fine Clydesdale, Angus, and heading north.
Agnes soon learned that the reason for not traveling at night was more than just for comfort. Her horse, though usually a surefooted and steady mount, found it hard to do so much as trot without losing his footing, and Agnes wasn't sure how she could maintain the course to Scotland without being on a road, and without being able to see.
Her route had been carefully chosen after an afternoon spent poring over the regional maps and finding the course that would be most likely to be uninhabited and untraveled. She was going to travel through the woods to the north of her father's manor, going in a generally easterly direction gradually, until she eventually reached Nottingham. From there, as long as she wore a cloak and didn't make a spectacle of herself, she would be far enough away from her father's influence to travel on the roads without fear of detection.
What she didn't account for, being the aristocratic woman that she was, were the logistical difficulties. Not half a mile into the woods did she learn she had to set up a camp and resume her journey come morning.
AFRICAN AMERICAN URBAN FICTION: BWWM ROMANCE: Billionaire Baby Daddy (Billionaire Secret Baby Pregnancy Romance) (Multicultural & Interracial Romance Short Stories) Page 11