Claimed by the Highland Warrior

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Claimed by the Highland Warrior Page 9

by Michelle Willingham


  ‘I am glad to meet you,’ Nairna said. ‘It’s good to see another woman here.’

  She’d hoped Laren would start a conversation, but the woman’s cheeks flushed and again she only nodded. It was as if she were too afraid to speak in front of her husband.

  One of the men brought out baked trout, served on a wooden plank. Nairna tried a little of the fish, wondering where Bram was. She stared into the crowd of men, searching for any sign of him.

  Over an hour had passed since she’d left his side and she worried about him being alone. He didn’t appear comfortable around so many people, even when they’d first arrived. She needed to find him, to understand what was going on.

  She excused herself from the table. ‘I’m going to find Bram,’ she told Alex.

  ‘I’ll come with you.’

  He stood up, but Nairna shook her head. ‘No, let me do this alone. I promise I’ll return with him.’

  She skirted her way through the crowd until she reached the entrance to the keep. Torches flared against the darkness and the faint reflection of the loch lay silver against the moonlight. Nairna clutched her wrap around her shoulders, her eyes searching.

  Outside the gates, she had started along the path leading to their house when she saw a shadowed figure sitting against the hillside.

  Her heart steadied when she realised it was Bram. He was reclining against the hill, his arms propped up beneath his head. Unrest brewed in his eyes and she sat beside him.

  He didn’t speak, made no excuses for his absence. She didn’t push for answers, for she suspected that he had his reasons for not entering the fortress.

  Instead, she stretched out beside him. Several stars dotted the sky and she reached out to take his hand. ‘It’s a nice night.’

  He didn’t respond. Had he not laced his fingers with hers, she’d have thought he hadn’t heard her. In the cool air, her breath formed clouds. As time drew on, at last he asked, ‘Did you eat with them?’

  ‘A little. I wanted to wait for you.’

  He sat up then, resting his hands upon his knees. ‘Nairna, you should go back without me.’

  She didn’t know if it was his aversion to crowds or another reason that kept him away. ‘What is it, Bram? Why can’t you join them?’

  He shook his head. ‘There is no reason at all they should be glad of my return. I should have died in prison.’ His eyes glittered in the darkness. ‘Sometimes I wish I had.’

  She reached up and touched the scar upon his throat, not knowing what to say to him.

  His hand covered hers and he answered her unspoken question. ‘They took a knife and slashed my throat, when I was seventeen. Not deep enough to kill, but enough to make me afraid.’

  His expression grew distant. ‘Some of the others did die. I didn’t know then that they kept the strongest of us to be used as slaves. They kept Callum alive because I worked twice as hard to fight for his life.’

  His voice roughened as he relived the nightmares. ‘I did everything they asked me to do—sometimes the work of several men. If I failed in my task, they punished Callum. Then me.’

  He pushed her hands away from his throat, rising to his feet. ‘Can you imagine what they did to him, when I took my freedom?’ Guilt radiated through his posture, even though he began walking towards the fortress. ‘If he’s still alive, I have to get him out.’ When he reached the entrance to the keep, she saw the raw pain in his eyes. ‘There’s nothing at all for me to celebrate.’

  ‘It’s not only for you,’ she whispered. ‘It’s for the men, too.’ She touched his face, needing him to understand the truth. ‘They’re lost, Bram. Their wives and children are gone. They need the distraction, even if it’s only for a single night.’

  He hesitated, but she could see that she was starting to break through to him. ‘You should go for their sake. Not for yourself.’

  The weariness in his expression broke her heart, but she took his hand, leading him forwards. ‘Joining your family can’t be any worse than what you’ve already endured.’

  He didn’t look pleased about it, but he relented at last. Nairna took his hand and he escorted her inside.

  A breath of relief filled her up and she remained at his side while his clansmen welcomed him, raising their cups. Bram’s expression remained sombre, but he nodded to them, accepting a cup of mead as he passed.

  ‘What took you so long, Bram?’ his kinsman Brodie teased.

  Though her cheeks were furiously red, Nairna knew that the jesting would only get worse if Bram said nothing. Already she could see the grim cast to his face and the desire to be anywhere but here. ‘He was hard at work,’ she said, lifting her own cup in a silent toast.

  The others roared with good-natured humour, several of the men raising their own cups in response. Her remark had the intended effect—it softened the banter and after a few minutes more, the men turned back to the feasting. But although it was meant to be a celebration, the atmosphere was fraught with tension. More than a few eyed Bram with envy when his arm came around her waist, as if they were missing their own wives.

  When she stole a glance at her husband, Bram moved in, his breath warm against her cheek. ‘Hard at work, was I?’

  ‘It seemed that way to me.’ She was finding it difficult to concentrate with his body so near.

  To distract herself, she took another sip of mead. Bram pulled the cup away and drank from the same place where her mouth had rested. The look in his eyes had transformed into something more alive. She’d managed to take his mind off his sorrows, and now, he was eyeing her as though he had every intention of seducing her.

  When they sat down with Alex and Laren, she noticed that the Lady of Glen Arrin had hardly touched her food. If it were possible, Laren looked even more uncomfortable than Bram.

  Though Alex talked with his kinsmen, seeming to enjoy the food and drink, he hardly spoke to his wife. But as Nairna watched them a little longer, she saw the way Alex stole glances at Laren from time to time. He was looking at her with a blend of longing and frustration, as though he didn’t know how to make things right between them.

  ‘Thank you for such wonderful food,’ Nairna said to Laren. With a chagrined smile, she added, ‘Next time, I’ll help you. I feel terrible that you had to do this alone.’

  ‘It was good,’ Alex said softly.

  Laren’s attention jerked to her husband and she dropped her gaze, looking embarrassed. She toyed with her food for a few moments longer, then said to Alex, ‘I’m going to go and make sure the girls have gone to bed.’

  The chief didn’t reply as she slipped away silently, but Nairna saw the way he never took his eyes off Laren.

  Nairna leaned closer to Bram. ‘Why wouldn’t their children have eaten with us?’

  ‘I don’t know. I suppose they must have eaten earlier.’

  ‘Has it always been this way between them?’ she whispered.

  He shrugged, and she took that to mean he didn’t know. After all, his brother had married during Bram’s imprisonment.

  ‘Would you mind if I went to speak with Laren?’ she asked. ‘I’d like to meet her daughters.’

  ‘Go, if you like. But I’m not staying here much longer. You can meet me in the grain hut.’

  He lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss upon her palm. The warmth of his breath made her flesh rise up and a ripple of anxiety flowed through her as she wondered if Bram would find her pleasing as a wife.

  Nairna followed the winding stairs to the second floor where there were only two chambers. Voices came from inside the first room and she listened a moment to the sounds of girls chattering.

  She pushed the door open slightly and saw two girls, one hardly more than four, and a chubby baby girl, perhaps a little over a year old. Each had hair as red as an autumn leaf, with sweet faces and bright blue eyes.

  A pang of envy struck Nairna hard, seeing the beautiful children. One day, she reminded herself. She had to hold faith that God would answer he
r prayers.

  Laren was brushing the older girl’s hair, while the child whined, ‘Mama, that hurts!’

  ‘Mairin, stand still and let me get the tangles out,’ Laren said. No longer did the chief’s wife appear timid and overwhelmed. Instead, she seemed relaxed and in command of her children.

  But as soon as she caught sight of Nairna, the brush stilled. ‘Was there something you needed?’

  ‘I wanted to meet your children,’ Nairna said, smiling at the girls. The youngest daughter ran over and grasped Laren’s skirts before burying her face to hide. Her wispy red hair stuck out around her ears in wild curls and Nairna had the urge to kiss the soft little cheeks.

  ‘This is Adaira.’ Laren extricated her daughter from her skirts. ‘Mairin is my eldest.’

  The child gave a slight curtsy, but looked suspicious. She strode forwards and studied Nairna. ‘I don’t like your gown.’

  ‘Mairin,’ her mother warned. ‘Don’t be rude.’

  Nairna pulled a stool over and sat down. ‘That’s all right. I don’t really like it, either, but I don’t have many gowns.’

  ‘Me, either.’ Mairin sighed. ‘I wish we’d gone away with the others.’

  ‘Why didn’t you?’ Though Nairna spoke to the young girl, her eyes met Laren’s.

  ‘Our da needs us,’ Mairin pronounced. ‘He’d cry if we left.’

  Laren’s face softened at her daughter’s prediction. ‘It’s time that both of you were in bed. Come now, and say good night.’

  She leaned down to kiss each of them and Nairna studied the gloves that Laren still wore. Though it was cold enough, true, she couldn’t imagine why the woman kept them on unless it was to hide something.

  As each child was tucked into bed, Laren sent Nairna a nod of dismissal.

  ‘Wait. I wanted to speak with you.’ If there were any answers to be had, the Lady of Glen Arrin would know them. ‘Please.’

  Reluctance coloured Laren’s expression, but she finally acquiesced. ‘For a moment.’ She led Nairna down the small corridor to the other chamber.

  Inside, a stunning tapestry hung from the walls. The bold colours were captivating and something about the design struck Nairna as unusual. It was a common scene of Saint John the Baptist, yet the colours were vibrant.

  ‘Did you make that?’ Nairna asked. It was artistry such as she’d never seen before. Worthy of hanging within a palace, if the truth be known.

  Laren nodded. ‘What did you wish to ask me?’ From her dull tone, it appeared that she was uncomfortable with having to converse.

  ‘Why did the women leave?’ Nairna asked.

  ‘Because of the English raids,’ Laren said. ‘Lady Grizel, Alex’s mother, led them to take refuge with Lord Locharr. There was too much fighting and she thought they would be safer there.’

  ‘And you chose not to go with them?’ Nairna prompted. Though it was only curiosity, she hadn’t expected the look of hurt that crossed Laren’s face.

  ‘They left without me. And for almost a sennight I didn’t know where they’d gone.’ Laren gripped her elbows, taking a breath. ‘I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to join them. But my chance is gone. Alex won’t ever let us leave.’

  ‘But the fighting has stopped, hasn’t it?’

  Laren’s expression tightened. ‘Oh, I’ve no doubt it will start up again. It always does.’ Murmuring a farewell, she returned to her girls.

  Nairna was left to wonder what she meant by that.

  Bram wasn’t inside the grain hut when she first arrived, but he returned within minutes. Nairna didn’t know if he’d spent the time talking with Alex, but his hair was wet, as though he’d washed in the stream. The dark strands hung against his neck, contrasting against his face.

  When he reached her, she saw that his beard had grown ragged. It appeared that he’d tried to cut it, but had failed to do a good job of it. Nairna reached out to touch his face. ‘Do you want me to shave you?’

  He hesitated, rubbing the rough surface. Then he nodded.

  ‘Let me get some warmed water,’ she offered. ‘Sit and wait a moment.’

  When she went to fetch the shaving soap and blade, she wondered if tonight would be the night when they consummated their marriage at last. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that there was no reason to be afraid. It was simply a matter of lying still, accepting his attentions and praying that their union would result in a child.

  But the more she thought of it, the more her nerves tightened. What if she didn’t please him? The other night, he’d stopped when she’d reacted badly to his touch.

  Stop worrying, she warned herself. It might be for nothing anyway. After all the training Bram had done earlier and the time he’d spent constructing the house foundation, he had to be exhausted. He might prefer to sleep instead.

  When she returned with the shaving supplies, Bram was sitting upon a large sack of grain. Weariness was evident in his lowered shoulders and in his eyes. She unwrapped the cloth bundle and when he stiffened at the sight of the sharp blade in her hand, she finally understood his reaction. The weapon disturbed him; no doubt it evoked memories of the soldier cutting his throat.

  ‘Do you trust me?’ she asked quietly, setting the blade down within reach.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. A dangerous smile played at his mouth and Nairna wet a piece of linen in the hot water.

  ‘I’ll stop, any time you ask me to.’ She lifted the linen to his cheeks, wetting the surface. The faint wisps of steam rose against his face and she let the warmth penetrate his skin.

  ‘Close your eyes,’ she murmured. When Bram obeyed, she took the soap and lathered her hands, bringing them to his cheeks. Gently, she soaped his face, letting her fingers move across the beard and down his neck. It was strange that such a common touch evoked feelings inside her own body. It was as if she were touching herself instead of him.

  Though Bram kept his eyes closed, his hands moved around her waist, bringing her to stand between his knees. Nairna used the dagger to shave him, and at the first touch of the blade his thumbs dug into her side.

  Instinct still ruled his mind, so it seemed.

  ‘It’s all right,’ she whispered. ‘Just remain still.’

  He obeyed and she spoke of mindless matters while she shaved him, revealing the smooth masculine skin. She didn’t know if he even heard a word of it, but not once did he relax. His expression was grim, as though she were torturing him. Then her blade slipped and his eyes flew open.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, wiping at the tiny nick on his skin. ‘I didn’t mean for that to happen.’

  His gaze had gone cold, as he stared at the weapon. His eyes were like glass, hardly seeing her at all. The way he was looking at her, she wasn’t certain she should touch him again.

  When there came no answer, she repeated, ‘Bram?’

  Bram took a deep breath, then another. He didn’t want to feel the kiss of the blade against his skin. The scars upon his back itched in memory, though he knew Nairna meant him no harm.

  ‘Finish it,’ he ordered, steeling himself. He didn’t want to look like a half-shorn animal, just because he couldn’t control his response to a knife.

  Nairna’s fingers moved over the shaven skin, as if searching for any other cuts. Her light touch seared him, setting his senses on edge.

  He wanted to remove her gown, seeing every part of her. Having her stand so close and not being able to do as he wished was honing the edge of his frustration.

  Her green eyes regarded him with apprehension, as if she could read his thoughts. A shaky breath released from her lungs, but she raised the dagger to the curve beneath his chin, gently cutting away at the ragged surface.

  The glint of the knife entranced him and he found it hard to keep his gaze fixed upon her. He hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath until she moved the knife away and he expelled a sharp exhale.

  ‘I’m almost finished,’ she whispered, soaping the underside of his thro
at. Her gentle fingers moved to touch one cheek while her hand brought the blade against his skin, removing the last bits of beard growth.

  He endured the scrape of the dagger, every muscle clenching at the touch of metal against his skin. And when she’d finished, he seized the blade and tossed it across the storage shed. His arms captured her, bringing her up against the back wall. He kissed her hard, unleashing the dark needs that possessed him.

  Chapter Nine

  Nairna couldn’t grasp a clear thought as Bram conquered her mouth. The heat of his lips, the way his tongue stroked hers, made her knees go soft.

  He drew his fingers over the rise of her pulse, down the exposed flesh at her bodice. Nairna shivered, unable to understand the feelings he’d aroused.

  With the shadow of his beard gone, Bram appeared even more handsome. The planes of his face, the slant of his jaw, held the appearance of an ancient warrior.

  His hands moved to the laces of her gown, loosening them. The wool was heavy, a barrier between them. He waited a moment to see if she would voice a protest, but she couldn’t have spoken a single word if she’d wanted to.

  He slid the fabric away from her shoulder, lowering his mouth to the bared skin. He exposed her breasts in the cool night air and cupped the fullness of them, running his thumbs over the softness of her hardened nipples.

  A tremulous, swollen desire tightened inside her. She bit the inside of her cheek as he abraded her sensitive skin with his roughened palms. The vein of desire seemed to run from her taut breasts down to the wet centre of her womanhood. Her fingers dug into his shoulders when his mouth trailed a path down her throat, resting upon her heart.

  And when his lips curved over her breasts, it was as if she’d been struck senseless. His hot mouth teased her nipples, his tongue swirling and sucking. Nairna tried to pull away, but he held her trapped. He kissed every part of her breast, all the way to the sensitive tip. With every fierce suckle, she felt an answering throb between her legs.

 

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