When a Warrior Woos a Lass

by Julie Johnstone

  Alex threw his sword to the ground and dove into the water, splashing and arrowing under the surface. Stark fear clawed at him as images of the moments that had just passed flashed in his mind: Lena jumping from the cliff. Her body disappearing into the loch. Her hand appearing above the water a breath before her head broke the surface. Powerful waves of emotion slammed into him: Terror. Joy. Then disbelief as Hamish dove into the loch and Lena disappeared once more, as if she’d never emerged.

  Alex swam fast toward the last place he’d seen his wife. His arms cut through the water and his lungs cried for air, but he ignored the need, kicking his legs and imagining Hamish’s face in front of him. Alex would choke the life from the man if there was any left.

  Alex propelled himself forward with a hefty thrust and ran into something—bodies, he thought—arms and legs struggling. Blindly, he reached out and grasped the arm in front of him, the slenderness of it telling him he had a hold on his wife. She jerked and fought like a wild cat, clawing at him and kicking out, but she stilled when he tugged her violently to him and cupped her face. Did she know it was him? A hand clamped on his arm and another around his neck, separating him from Lena. He prayed to God she’d swim away and save herself.

  He twisted around in Hamish’s hold, driven by rage beyond anything he’d ever known. Alex’s hands found Hamish’s neck, and he squeezed it, even as the man did the same to him. Something brushed his leg, and then Hamish’s grip suddenly lessened, giving Alex the advantage. He squeezed so hard his fingers and lungs burned, and only after Hamish stopped fighting him and finally became unmoving, did Alex consider releasing him. Yet, he waited several more breaths, wanting to be as certain as he could that Hamish would not live to come after him or Lena. But finally, his own lungs screamed with the need for air, and to save himself, he had to release Hamish. For a moment, Alex floated under the water, uncertain which way was up, but then a hand found his bicep. It ran down the length of his arm to take his hand, and he and Lena swamp up, her guiding his way. They broke the surface of the water together, the only sound that of them greedily gulping air.

  Then Fardley called to them from the shore. “Laird! What shall I do?”

  Once they emerged from the water, Alex waved the man off. “Stand watch at the water’s edge. I believe I killed Hamish, but I need to ken for certain.” With those instructions given, he drew Lena far enough away from Fardley that the man would not hear them speaking. Alex turned her in his arms and cupped her face once more. Her eyes locked with his, and gratitude for her life being spared stole his speech.

  “I love ye, Alex,” she said, her voice hushed and almost shy.

  “I love ye, too, lass. So much so that to imagine my life without ye even for a moment strips me of my ability to breathe.” He captured her mouth, devouring its sweetness, her breath, her very essence. When he broke the kiss, he could not contain what he felt. “Ye’ve entered my mind and my heart, taking my soul for yer own. I am yers.” He kissed her fiercely. “I only pray I dunnae disappoint ye.”

  She buried her head in his neck as she wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him. “Ye likely will,” she said gently, “and I am certain to disappoint ye. But that is life, and if the love we have is true, it will grow and thrive. It can be the kind of love to sustain us through our failures and our triumphs.”

  He pressed a kiss to her head and hugged her tight, knowing her words were true for him and praying they would be for her, as well. His secret past lay heavy in his mind, but tonight was not the time to think on it. Tonight, he felt stripped bare and raw, and only Lena’s touch could calm the storm that almost losing her had brewed.

  After it was certain that Hamish was dead, and Alex and Lena had seen to Greer and Baldwin, they walked, fingers interlaced, to Alex’s bedchamber. He instructed the chambermaids to bring up a bucket of steaming water, and then he and Lena removed each other’s clothes, slowly and silently. When they stood flesh to flesh, Alex encircled Lena in his arms. She pressed her cheek just above his heart, feeling it thunder beneath his skin. The emotions she’d been holding back rose, and she found herself sobbing in her husband’s arms.

  “Shh, Mo chailin chalma,” he whispered, running a gentle hand over her head repeatedly until her sobs gave way to soft sniffling and then to silence. Alex traced his fingers up and down her spine. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and hugged her. “I have ye now, and I vow to keep ye safe, even if it is from yerself, ye wee reckless, stubborn, beautiful lass.”

  She pulled back, wanting him to understand what she was feeling. “I was nae crying because of fear. Though, I’ll nae deny I was scairt. My emotions overcame me just now because I realized ye have given me the greatest gift a person could give another.”

  When he gave her a baffled look, she rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. It was clear he didn’t even truly know what he’d done for her. He had helped her heal and find her inner strength once more. She was no longer the scared woman Findlay had made her.

  She slid her hands over his powerful shoulders and down his thick arms. “Ye have given me back my courage. Ye have shown me I can still be strong, and braw, and free to love—”

  “Free to love only me, aye,” he cut in with a teasing growl. He grinned.

  “Aye,” she answered, glad to see him light and happy but fretful that her next words would darken his spirit. “Ye have given me true love.” She ran a finger over his strong jaw. “But for our love to flourish, ye must trust me and share yer heart with me.”

  Immediately, he scowled. “I do trust ye,” he said, his words slow and even. “But it is my task to defend ye. Ye are my wife, and I would lay down my life for ye.”

  Her heart swelled at the devotion he was displaying, though she knew she had to make him understand what she needed from him. “And I would lay down my life for ye,” she said. “Ye cannot expect less of me. To do so makes me feel helpless, as if I am broken and weak.”

  His eyes widened. “I dunnae see ye as helpless,” he said, “and I ken ye have grown strong. But I have failed to keep people dear to me safe before, and I will nae allow that to happen again.”

  Though he had not said he would relent even a bit on being overprotective, his mention of his past gave her hope. “Who did ye fail to keep safe?” she asked, deciding to focus on that rather than dwell on the fact that her husband was likely not going to bend this night.

  He leaned down and brushed her hair off her neck, then placed a feathery kiss there that made her shiver. “I dunnae wish to rattle the bones of my past, Lena. It haunts me enough as it is.” His lips traced a teasing path over her collarbone and down lower to capture one of her buds in his mouth.

  Desire instantly shot through her, and her belly clenched as her breasts grew heavy with need. He was distracting her so that she would not continue to question him. She knew it well, but with his tongue lavishing wicked attention to her breast and the rapidly growing heat spreading through her body, her thoughts turned from all she wanted to know and longed for him to share to her need for him. They could have died tonight, and in this moment, she wished nothing more than to touch him, taste him, feel him inside her, and prove they were truly alive. Perchance even create a life, God willing. The hope was there, however small.

  His ministrations moved from her right breast to her left and then down to the juncture of her thighs. All logical thought fled as he hoisted her up onto the bed in one fluid movement, then crawled between her legs to bring her pleasure that left her panting. When she’d found her release and her body felt spent, he came to hover above her, his thighs braced on either side of her. He slid his hands beneath her buttocks as she reached behind him and gripped his, too. He lifted her as he entered her, filling her as only he could.

  Their joining started slow and sweet but grew frenzied, driven by the need to claim life over death. Lena found herself ravenous for her husband, offering bruising kisses and raking her nails over his chest and back. When he flipped
her over and drew her up onto her knees with one hand braced under her belly and the other fisted in her hair, she did not feel one breath of fear. Wild, uninhibited passion pounded through her with every thudding beat of her heart. They found a rhythm that stole her breath and made every muscle in her body clench, and when she felt Alex’s fingers curl into her belly and his body thrust harder into hers, she cried out her pleasure as they found bliss together. They collapsed as one, a tangled mass of arms and legs, joined in body and spirit.

  Alex rolled onto his side, brushed her hair out of her eyes, and looked at her with a solemn expression. She tensed, knowing he was about to send her away. “Lena—”

  She pressed a finger to his lips. “I ken ye wish me to depart—”

  “I dunnae wish it,” he interrupted, his voice grave. “’Tis for yer safety.”

  She nodded. If he would just open up to her, tell her his secrets, whatever weighed so heavily upon him and caused these nightmares might prove more bearable—maybe even dissipate entirely. She didn’t want to argue about it right now, though, after all they had been through and shared this night. “Please, let me stay just until ye fall asleep.”

  “Nay.” He looked so forlorn that she felt hopeful he would relent.

  “I vow to depart the verra moment ye are asleep. I simply want to lie here with ye for a bit.”

  “And if ye fall asleep first?” he asked.

  “Then gather me into yer arms and take me to my bedchamber.”

  “’Tis dangerous.”

  “’Tis dangerous nae to allow it!” she cried out. When a shocked look settled on his face, she rushed to explain. “I feel like ye are keeping a wall between us, Alex, and I kinnae abide it. If ye will nae share yer secrets with me and ye will nae allow us to sleep the night in the same bed, I must have this. I need it!” Perhaps she was being unfair and unwise to press him on the matter, but a desperate worry had settled in her chest, along with the certainty that if they did not address what lay in the shadows between them, it would destroy their new love.

  He sighed. “Close yer eyes, then, Wife. I’ll take ye to yer chamber when ye fall asleep.”

  She nodded, hanging on to the triumph, however small it was.

  Fourteen

  Alex settled his sleeping wife on her bed, covered her, and then turned to go. Sleep was beckoning him, too. But as he pushed open Lena’s bedchamber door to depart, she cried out in her sleep. At the sound of her terror, he turned around sharply and went to her side. She thrashed on the bed, her eyes moving restlessly under her eyelids.

  “Stop it. Stop it!” she demanded, tears leaking from her eyes and trickling down the sides of her face.

  His heart twisted at the misery in her voice. Sitting beside her, he reached over to wake her, but when he placed his hand on her arm and said her name, she stilled immediately. She gave a ragged sigh and turned toward his hand, blindly reaching for it in her sleep and tugging it to her chest. She curled her arms around it and sighed once more before becoming perfectly still.

  He stared at her, shocked, as her body soon found a rhythm of deep breathing and a peaceful look settled on her face. He did not know what was causing Lena’s nightmares, if it was the memory of Findlay or Hamish, or something else, but he knew Lena needed his presence here. He hated himself in that moment for his inability to give his wife everything she needed. He could not sleep the night with her, and he could not share the secrets of his past, nor could he share his assignment from King David. It was not only because he’d vowed he’d not disclose the latter but because the one thing he understood more deeply than anything was that his vow to Lena trumped every vow he’d ever given to another. If he could be sure she wouldn’t try to help, risking herself in the process, he would gladly tell her of the assignment. But he was worried she’d do exactly that.

  He smiled down at his beautiful wife, her face illuminated by the moonlight. She had delicate bones and features, but a look of determination creased her brow even in sleep. She’d become strong in body and mind, and his love for her seemed to be growing at an astonishing pace. It was that all-consuming love that forced him to keep his assignment secret. He would protect her no matter what.

  His eyes burned and vision blurred as he sat there, his body becoming heavy with weariness. He closed his eyes, then snapped them back open. Carefully, he tried to extract his hand from his wife’s clutches, but every time he attempted to do so, she cried out in distress. He sat there, trapped by his desire to give her what she needed and his knowledge that he was a threat to her if he succumbed to sleep. He couldn’t stay, yet he couldn’t go. His eyes slowly closed once more, and again, he snapped them open, his body jerking in response. But seconds later, his head lolled forward as sleep gripped him in its steely embrace.

  “Ye’ll like it, lad,” Gillis hissed in his ear.

  Alex spit in Gillis’s face, and the man immediately drove his fist into Alex’s nose. The crunch of bones vibrated in his ears, followed by pain that made him want to retch.

  Gillis snarled and jerked Alex’s head up, causing his scalp to sting. Alex squinted at the man through almost-closed eyes. “I tire of these games. Bring me Thomas!” Gillis boomed to the guard Alex knew was standing just outside the door.

  Alex had but to glance at Ginny still lying on the floor in a pool of her own blood before he found himself speaking. “Nay,” he said, hating his friend’s very existence in that moment, for if there were no Thomas, Alex would let Gillis kill him before he let the man break him. “Dunnae call for Thomas to be killed. I’ll like it,” Alex said, the words feeling as if they’d been ripped from his gut.

  Gillis grinned and ran a hand down Alex’s cheek before he trailed it so low that Alex started to retch, his stomach heaving in spasms. He couldn’t do it! Thomas was going to die because of Alex’s selfishness. Just as he decided to kick out at Gillis, a loud commotion sounded at the door before it opened and Alex’s father walked into the dungeon.

  Shame unlike anything Alex had ever experienced swept over him at the slack look of disbelief on his father’s face. Then relief as pure and sweet as the white snow filled him when vicious hatred twisted his father’s features. He drew his sword at the same moment he lunged for Gillis. The evil man never had a chance to move.

  “Remove yer filthy hand from my son, or by God, I will cut it off and then slice ye to pieces bit by bit as I coo in yer ear how much I’m enjoying yer death.”

  Gillis dropped his hand from Alex’s body a breath before Alex’s father swung his sword, cutting Alex’s binds. He staggered away from the pole to which he’d been tied, his knees almost buckling, but he locked them and drew himself to his full height.

  “Father,” he started, desperate to explain what had happened and to be forgiven for his failure.

  His father shook his head even as he struck Gillis on the temple, giving such a blow that the man swooned and fell to the floor. When he did, Alex’s father strode to the dungeon door and slammed it shut, then turned back to Alex.

  “Are we going to kill him, Father?” Alex didn’t give a damn that the man was defenseless at the moment, nor that Alex would risk eternal damnation for killing another in this way. He could feel a dagger in his empty hand, and he could easily imagine plunging it into Gillis’s black heart for what he had done and still wanted to do.

  “We kinnae kill him, but he will suffer. I vow it to ye.”

  “But, Father—”

  “I need the Steward’s support now,” his father interrupted. “I kinnae kill his brother without his consent, but if he dunnae give it, there are other ways to make a man atone for his actions.”

  Anger roiled through Alex. He had to make his father understand the sort of grotesque man Gillis was. Alex had been spared the worst by his father’s arrival, but what of the other apprentices who would not be so lucky should Gillis not be banned from training them? And what of Ginny’s lost life?

  “Gillis is evil, Father. He—”

  “Dunnae e
ver speak of what has happened!” his father roared, the words lashing through Alex like sharp blades. “Ye will be laird, and this—” his father waved a hand at Gillis, Ginny, and even Alex “—shows weakness. Ye kinnae reveal weakness. Bury it. Behave as if it is nae there, even as ye dunnae ever forget it, so ye will nae ever allow yerself to be here again. Ask yerself nightly before sleep how ye could have prevented all that came to pass.”

  “But what of Ginny?” Alex demanded, shamed and angry. “I kinnae simply wipe her from my memory as if she did nae exist. Ginny—”

  “Alex!”

  He jerked awake at the sound of Lena calling his name. Fear hit him hard as he turned to find his wife on her knees beside him, a concerned look on her face. “Did I hurt ye?” he asked, sweeping his gaze over her thin léine, her arms, legs, chest, and then to her face.

  She shook her head. “Nay. Ye did nay hurt me, Alex. Ye woke me with cries of Thomas and Ginny in yer sleep.” Her probing eyes demanded answers, despite her not asking any questions.

  The remnants of his dream—the shame and his father’s words—came to him as he slid off the bed to put distance between him and Lena. In the moment, he was no match for his wife’s will. He was weary, beaten down by the lack of sleep and the burdens of his past.

  “Who is Thomas?” she asked softly.

  He clenched his jaw on the memories.

  After a long moment of silence, Lena sighed. “’Tis the second time ye have cried the name Ginny in yer sleep, too. Who is she to ye?” Lena set her hands on her hips. “Did ye love her? Do ye still?”

  His own frustration exploded within him. He swung around to face Lena. “Ginny and Thomas are two people I failed inexcusably. Grievously.” The memories pounded at him with relentless blows. “I did nae love Ginny, but I cared for her. She was my friend. She was the first lass I had interest in, and her interest in me led to her death.” He heard himself bellowing, and he hated it, hated that he’d raised his voice to Lena. But she was pushing too hard, asking too much. “Ye are the only woman I have ever loved,” he growled, “but ye must cease asking me about my past!”