Return of the Rogue

by Donna Fletcher

  At the moment, he had no time to speak with her, but he would make time before he left. He needed and wanted to; after all, there was always a chance he wouldn’t return.

  Horses and warriors were busy preparing for the ride and battle if necessary, and it wasn’t long before it was time for the warriors to leave.

  Cavan approached his wife and with a gentle hand to her back guided her to a spot where they could speak alone.

  “I do not know how long I will be gone,” he said.

  “I will be here praying for you and your brother’s safe return,” she said, though her voice trembled.

  He took her into his arms. “You will continue to practice while I am gone, and there’s Champion to train; you will be busy in my absence.”

  “I have much to occupy me,” she confirmed, “though I will miss our lessons.”

  He smiled. “Our lessons?”

  She placed a hand to his chest. “You cannot say you haven’t learned something from our lessons?”

  He covered her hand with his. “More than I expected.”

  “I am glad to hear that.”

  Her violet eyes entranced him. They held such truths. “Stay close to the keep while I am gone.”

  Honora smiled. “I know how to protect myself.”

  He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her waist. “I do not need to worry about you when I should be concerned with my mission.”

  “Worry not, I will do as you say,” she said softly.

  An empty ache hit him hard in the gut. He would miss his wife, miss her lovely violet eyes, the sweet scent of her hair, and—

  She startled him with a gentle kiss, and stunned him even more when her arms eased around his neck and her body flattened against his. Her kiss was tentative, searching or beseeching him for more.

  As much as he would have loved to oblige her, he was needed elsewhere. Kisses, passion, intimacy would have to wait.

  He stepped away from her so quickly that she stumbled. He righted her with a firm hand, nodded, then turned and left, Lachlan following him out the door.

  Honora felt her heart lurch, and she hurried outside along with Addie. While her mother-in-law went to her husband’s side, Honora stood alone watching her husband mount his stallion. He was an impressive sight sitting tall and proud and anxious. She could see it in the tight lines in his face. This was what he had been waiting for, a chance to bring his brother home. She prayed he wouldn’t be disappointed and that he would return safe.

  She raised her hand to wave, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was intent on his men and heading out, beginning the search or perhaps rescue of his brother. She dropped her hand and hugged herself around her middle, realizing she was chilled, the air cold, gray clouds hovering overhead.

  Not a good day to send men off to battle. Some would declare a gray sky an omen, but she refused to accept it as a portent. She would think of it as a good beginning for them all, for didn’t a rainstorm wash the earth clean and nourish the crops? And didn’t the sun follow, heralding a new day?

  Honora smiled and waved to her husband though he didn’t look her way. It didn’t matter and she didn’t do it to be a dutiful wife; she did because she wanted to, because she would honestly miss him and worry over his safe return.

  He might not have returned the kiss she’d given him so bravely and hastily, but she wasn’t sorry she had kissed him. She liked kissing him. He tasted good, satisfying, and it made her skin tingle. And she intended to garnish as much courage as possible and kiss him again.

  She continued to watch after her husband when he was long gone in the distance and everyone else had wandered off or returned inside the great hall. She stood there watching until the first raindrop splattered on her head and forced her inside.

  Cavan had turned when one of his men hailed him, and while answering the man spied his wife in the distance waving. He knew it was her; he knew it in his heart. She never moved. She remained there becoming a mere speck until finally he could see her no more and she was gone.

  The thought chilled and angered him. His only thought should be of the possible battle ahead and, hopefully, the return of his brother, and yet…

  He could not get his wife out of his mind. Or was it the kiss he could not forget?

  He had pulled away from her more reluctantly than he wanted to admit. If not for the need to find his brother, he would have scooped her up and…

  He wanted to love her, and he didn’t want to love her. He felt crazed with the thought of her, but hadn’t his father warned him that love could do that to you—make you crazy?

  He barely knew Honora, but what did falling in love have to do with time?

  Cavan shook his head.

  “Rejecting mental battle plans already?” Lachlan asked, riding up alongside him.

  Cavan grunted.

  Lachlan grinned. “Methinks you are waging a different battle in your head, perhaps concerning a wife?”

  “Mind your business,” Cavan snapped.

  Lachlan rumbled with laughter. “Who would have thought it? Cavan Sinclare in love.”

  “I’m warning you, Lachlan—”

  “Warn all you want. I intend to enjoy tormenting you.”

  Cavan turned a wicked grin on him. “Just remember your turn will come.”

  Lachlan laughed again. “Love will have nothing to do with my choice of a wife.”

  “So you say now.”

  “So I say. My wife will be a dutiful woman who obeys my every word and serves me well.”

  “And faithful?”

  Lachlan flashed a sinful smile. “I will be faithful in my duty to her and treat her well.”

  “We shall see,” Cavan said. “We shall see.”

  Chapter 20

  Honora paced the floor in her bedchamber. It had been four days without a word from Cavan and she was worried senseless over him. What if he was hurt or, Lord forbid, captured again? She couldn’t bear to think of such dire consequences.

  She’d kept herself busy, though in an unorthodox manner, and had her husband to thank for it. With the few lessons he had given her, she gained courage and confidence that she could actually be capable of protecting herself if necessary, and she wanted to learn more. She wanted to become strong not just to impress her husband, but to claim her own self-worth. She’d made friends with John the bow maker and cajoled him into teaching her how to handle a bow. He balked at first, insisting he should get permission from her husband, but she insisted that she wanted to surprise him with her newly learned skill.

  John had finally capitulated, though he made it clear he’d give her only one or two lessons. He changed his mind fast when she showed an aptitude for it. It was as if the weapon bowed to her command.

  “You have a natural skill for it, lass.” he told her, and continued to give her daily lessons with the bow.

  She couldn’t wait to show Cavan what she’d learned and wished he would return soon, though the fact that she missed him dearly was more of a reason for his return. She had gotten used to spending time with him, talking with him and taking walks with him. She wanted her husband home by her side so they could continue to grow close and finally seal their vows, making their marriage official.

  Addie rushed into the room, causing Honora to jump with a start.

  “Sorry to frighten you.” Addie grinned. “But your husband returns.”

  Honora burst into a smile, hurrying over to her. “Is Ronan with them?”

  “We don’t know yet. They are a distance away and approach slow.”

  The two women hurried down the staircase and out of the keep, joining Tavish and Artair out front to wait for the approaching troop. Villagers gathered to welcome the returning warriors, and when word spread that they returned victorious, cheering shouts filled the crisp air.

  However, Cavan’s stone cold face warned Honora that the battle hadn’t been victorious for her husband, which could only mean that Ronan had not been found.
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  Unlike many of the women who hurried to hug their mates, she didn’t rush to greet her husband. His grim manner warned her that he would not appreciate it. Besides, his glance was fixed on his father, and Honora assumed he wished to speak with him first.

  Lachlan followed Cavan to stand in front of their father.

  “Ronan wasn’t with the barbarians we attacked,” Cavan said with obvious regret.

  “Any word of him?” Tavish asked anxiously.

  “Those men left with some breath in them did not say or would not say,” Lachlan said.

  “Let us discuss this in my solar,” Tavish said, and turned to his wife. “Have a celebration feast prepared.”

  Honora stared after her husband, but he did not look her way, not a glance, not a slight turn of his head, not a peek from the corner of his eye. He ignored her and followed his father into the keep. She had spent every day worried over him, and he did not even acknowledge her presence. But then what had she expected? That he would miss her as much as she did him?

  Foolish hopes and dreams. and hadn’t her stepfather dashed enough of her hopes and dreams through the years for her to learn never to count on anything or anyone?

  She tapped her lips with a single finger and thought for a moment. Why hadn’t she seen Calum of late? He usually lurked about during the day, not realizing she knew full well he spied on her. Since Cavan had confronted Calum for raising his hand against her, he’d been less conspicuous, though he had remained vigilante in his spying attempts.

  Yet this last week or more, she hadn’t seen him, and while Calum was good at not being noticed when he didn’t want to be, she had years to learn his tricks and knew when he was about without even seeing him.

  “Come,” Addie said. “We must see to the feast. The men will be looking forward to the celebration.”

  “Have you seen my stepfather lately?” she asked, keeping pace.

  “I think I saw him near the stables the other day, though I can’t be certain.” Addie hurried her steps. “The tables must be kept heavy with food and drink for the men.”

  Honora nodded and kept pace, knowing it was her duty to help Addie, but she paused before entering the keep and cast a quick glance around the grounds. She knew exactly where to look, places Calum would go unnoticed so he could watch, but she saw nothing. He wasn’t there.

  She didn’t know what frightened her more, that he watched her or that he didn’t lurk in the shadows. Where could he be and what could he be doing?

  But it was her husband who occupied most of her thoughts. While she helped Addie with the preparations for the celebration, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. He had not only looked grim, but exhausted, and was covered with sweat, dirt, and dried blood.

  She turned to Addie. “I’d like to have a bath waiting for my husband.”

  Addie smiled. “That is a good idea. I am sure he will appreciate it. As soon as the delicious smell of the food permeates the solar, the men will finish.”

  Honora chuckled and continued to help Addie until the scented meats, stews, and pies grew strong in the air, then she ordered a bath prepared in her bedchamber and Addie shooed her off before she could ask to take her leave.

  Cavan climbed the stairs heavy in heart and tired in body. He had high hopes of finding his brother and bringing him home. He’d had no such luck and had not even discovered a single clue as to Ronan’s whereabouts. Even killing a horde of barbarians didn’t ease his disappointment. Finding his brother mattered more than revenge. He wanted Ronan home and safe.

  He knew a celebration feast was prepared, but to him there was nothing to celebrate. He hadn’t accomplished what he had set out to do, therefore this was not deserving of a celebration.

  He wanted to find a way to drown his misery, to forget, to lose himself in—

  He halted abruptly upon entering his bedchamber and stared at his wife standing in a pale yellow linen shift next to a steaming tub of water. The firelight outlined her naked body beneath, and her taut nipples poked sensually at the material. She waited with a smile to help him bathe.

  “Get out!” he yelled at her, and stepped away from the door.

  “I only meant—”

  “Out!” His strong shout sent a tremble through his body.

  Honora quickly grabbed her skirt and blouse off the bed and ran out of the room, her head down. He was grateful she hadn’t glanced his way, for if he had seen even a speck of hurt in her violet eyes, he would have grabbed her and rained apologies and kisses all over her, which would have—

  He shook his head and slammed the door shut, rushing to strip off his clothes. He would have taken her there and then, a quick act of sheer need, sheer desperation that would have hurt not only her but himself. He was in no mood to be gentle and kind. He was consumed with anger and contempt for himself for failing to find his brother. He didn’t deserve kindness from his wife, or from anyone at the moment.

  He dunked down in the water to soak his hair and came up sputtering, then grabbed the soap on top of the stack of towels and scrubbed, though he doubted he could rid himself of all the filth. He felt as if it had crept into his flesh and become part of him, and no matter how hard he tried, he’d never be fully clean.

  In his year of capture he had been treated like an animal and made to live like one, and it had tormented his soul. He couldn’t stand the thought that his brother continued to live such a degrading life.

  He shook his head and dropped his face in his hands, and while he refused to weep, he felt as if his heart wept for him.

  It took a couple of hours before he was ready to join the celebration, and with a clean shirt and fresh plaid and his hair shiny clean, he made his way to the great hall. It was a necessity for him to attend the feast, for if he did not, his absence would suggest that he didn’t honor his warriors. They had fought bravely and he would show them the respect they deserved.

  He took a seat at the table with his father and brothers, raising a tankard in toast to his men. He searched the room for Honora. Not finding her nor spotting his mother, he assumed they were busy seeing that the tables remained heavy with food and drink. It was better that he did not see her yet anyway, for he felt guilty over treating her so badly when she merely was being a dutiful wife.

  Later he would apologize, but for now he’d get lost in the feast.

  He ate, drank, and joked with his brothers and the men, and occasionally spied his mother directing the servant girls while she laughed and talked with everyone. He took a quick look for his wife, but didn’t see her anywhere. He wondered where she was and sought to catch his mother’s glance in order to ask her, but she didn’t see him and turned away to disappear in a crowd of people.

  Lachlan slapped his back and made a teasing comment that required an immediate response, and it soon had the three brothers battling wits and laughter.

  It wasn’t until Addie joined them an hour or more later that Cavan inquired about his wife.

  “Do you keep my wife so busy that she is unable to join us?”

  Addie looked at him with alarm. “I haven’t seen Honora since she left the hall to see to your bath. Was she not waiting for you in your bedchamber?”

  His father and brothers all showed signs of concern, and he was quick to ease their worries.

  “I know where she is.” He stood and left the hall, leaving his family wondering.

  He didn’t have to think twice about where she’d gone. She would seek the one who would console her the most—Champion.

  He entered the stable quietly and stopped when he saw his wife asleep, curled up on a bed of hay, a wool cloak wrapped around her and Champion, who was tucked up against her chest, also sound asleep. But what tore at his heart was that he could see she’d been crying, possibly had fallen asleep with tears filling her eyes, and he knew it was his fault.

  He need not have been so cruel to her. He had been angry with himself, not her, and she had suffered for his foolishness. Now she slept in the stable
with the animals, and that irritated him even more.

  Enough was enough. He gently scooped up Champion and placed him with the rest of the sleeping pups. Then seeing another pup curled at Honora’s feet, he scooped the little fellow up and added him to the pile of pups.

  Finally he leaned down and as gently as possible lifted his wife in his arms and stood. She stirred and her eyes fluttered open before she rested her head against his chest. As he turned, her eyes sprang open and she lifted her head to stare at him.

  “You belong with me.”

  She shook her head.

  He pressed his lips to her temple then whispered, “Yes, you do.”

  He strode from the stable with steady steps. She was no burden, not only in weight but as a wife. He had first considered her an encumbrance, but she proved to be far from it. And she was proving more of an asset every day. But perhaps he was finally seeing her true nature.

  He avoided the great hall, instead taking the rarely used entrance which was employed mainly in case they were under attack and the keep had to be evacuated. He didn’t want anyone to see them or know of their disagreement. There was enough gossip being spread about him, and he didn’t need more, nor would he see his wife hurt because of his foolishness.

  They made it to their bedchamber without passing a soul, and after a quiet click of the door, he eased Honora down on the bed and slipped her cloak off.

  She lay rigid, staring at him as if uncertain or perhaps frightened of him, and that troubled Cavan. He did not want her fearful of him. She must have lived with enough fear of her stepfather. He would not have her feeling the same about him.

  “I am so very sorry,” he said, running the back of his hand along her soft cheek. “You did not deserve my anger and you were not the cause.”

  She sighed softly, as though releasing a long held breath. “I had thought I somehow offended you.”