“Trust,” she said before he could.
He turned on his side, his hand going to the curve of her waist to ease her on her side to face him. “Tell me what I must do for you to trust me, wife?”
Her skin tingled where he touched her and she did her best to ignore it, but it was far from easy. “First I’ll hear what I must do for you to trust me.”
His response was delivered without a bit of hesitation. “Confide and share all with me as you do with your men. There will never be trust between us if you don’t.”
She might have argued with him if she hadn’t learned to trust enough to confide and share. “I will agree to that if you agree to what I ask?”
“Tell me,” he urged, eager to seal their agreement.
“Trust my word that I’ve been with no other man and do not wait to consummate our vows.”
Chapter 12
Raven walked to the village, dawn just breaking. It was quiet and cold, her boots sinking into snow just below her ankles. No flurries fell, but the snow wasn’t finished with them yet. She had woken almost an hour ago snug and warm in her husband’s arms. It continued to surprise her how comfortable and peaceful she felt with him wrapped around her. He’d been her enemy for so long, it was difficult not to see him any other way. And yet she didn’t feel that way when sleeping in his arms. She tried over and over again to make sense of it, but it eluded her.
Last night when he spoke of trust, she had no argument with it. They were wed and would spend the rest of their days together. And as Purity suggested, wouldn’t she rather her husband be a friend than a foe?
Unfortunately, they had failed to seal the bargain Wolf had offered, more precisely he had failed to agree. He had failed to say anything after she had told him what she expected from him if he was to trust her. She couldn’t say it hadn’t hurt—it had. And that in itself had surprised her. Why should she care what he thought? But for some reason it mattered to her. Perhaps the sting of his failure to agree was a silent statement of what he actually thought of her.
A woman not worth trusting.
The thought stung. Had his words that they work together meant nothing more than empty promises? She had seen enough of that as her journey as a thief. She had learned there was more honor among thieves than nobles and that wasn’t saying much. How then did one truly trust?
She wished the old man was still alive. She missed him so much. They had spent endless hours talking, debating, arguing. He had taught her well and his knowledge continued to help her survive.
The glow of a fire caught her attention as she approached the cottages where her men stayed. She shook her head and corrected with a whisper, “Live. Where they now lived.” She had to remind herself this was permanent—unlike most places they’d been—this place was now their home.
A cauldron hung over the fire pit, no doubt brewing something her men would be grateful for and they showed their appreciation in many ways to Greta for seeing them fed. She had noticed Fyn spent much time with Greta and her son Tait. The men teased him about it and he gave as good as he got, but never once had he denied it. It made her realize how much they had all sacrificed the last five years. This was their chance of finally having a permanent home and more if possible. She couldn’t deny them that, just as she shouldn’t deny herself.
But how did she do that wed to Wolf?
Raven approached the cauldron, needing the heat from the fire to warm her some, when Greta stepped out of the cottage and gasped.
“You startled me,” Greta said as she went to the cauldron. “No one stirs yet, though soon they will.” She added a handful of leaves to the cauldron.
“What has you up early?” Raven asked, though from Greta’s creased brow, Raven surmised worry was the culprit.
“Concern that Brynjar’s men are here. They are an evil lot.” She shuddered. “Brynjar hates failure in any form. His agreement with the old chieftain of the Clan Macara to wed his daughter Purity failed. He will not let his plans, whether agreeable or not, to wed Eria fail. He will come for her, though it is truly Wolf he wants.”
Raven needed her curiosity settled. “Why is that? Why does Brynjar hate him so?”
She stared at the cauldron a few moments. “Brynjar doesn’t need a reason. He’s a vile man.”
Her brief hesitation had Raven sensing that the woman knew more than she was saying and she was completely caught off guard with what Greta said next. “Eria is a good woman and not your enemy. You should be kind to her.”
The words flew right out of Raven’s mouth. “Does Eria love Wolf?”
“No. Eria cares for him as she would a friend just as he cares for her as a friend. Their parents arranged their union, wanting to unite two powerful tribes, and both felt it was their duty to submit to their parents’ command. Wolf may be called the Beast, but he is far from one, except, of course, when he battles, then he is more ferocious than a wild beast.”
Fyn came out of his cottage stretching and broke into a smile as soon as his eyes fell on Greta, and she returned the same enthusiastic smile.
“Fyn is a good man,” Raven said.
Greta’s smile grew. “I know. Tait adores him.”
Tait wasn’t the only one who adored Fyn, and Raven was happy for him. He deserved a family, a home, love.
“You all right, Raven,” Fyn asked when he joined them.
That he looked to her first, asked how she was, when he obviously was eager to talk with Greta made her think how dedicated her men were to her. How much they had sacrificed for her. That had another question looming large in her mind. How long did she expect them to sacrifice for her?
The thought startled her and made her realize she had some thinking to do.
“I’m good, Fyn, a bit bruised and sore, but nothing that I haven’t felt before,” she said with a chuckle.
He laughed. “Haven’t we all been there and more than once.”
Raven saw Fyn’s laughter fade along with his smile when he looked to Greta. She had paled and her hand rested on her scar. He hurried to take the woman in his arms and Raven walked away, giving them their privacy. If it was anything she should know Fyn would tell her, though would he if Greta asked him not to?
Change was in the air, she could feel it, smell it, almost taste it. It was inevitable.
Raven headed back to the longhouse wondering over more than her husband and the bargain they had yet to strike.
“One of these mornings I will wake before you.”
Raven admonished herself silently for letting her mind wander and not paying attention to her surroundings. Then she spotted the two warriors off to her sides and realized she’d been followed since she’d left the longhouse earlier. She had to remember that.
“Few stir this cold winter morning,” Raven said and stopped when her husband’s steps brought him to her.
He reached out to snatch hold of her hand. “Come and warm yourself by the fire while we eat.”
“I’m not very hungry,” she said and saw his eyes turn suspicious. Was he thinking her ill due to the possibility of her being with child? The thought annoyed her. “I thought to speak to the two captives again.”
“They’ve told us what they could. What they know. Brynjar trusts few men and even less women.”
“I think they may know more, but fear saying anymore,” Raven said. “They worry what Brynjar might do to their families if he discovers they didn’t die with the other men. It would be good if you could bring their families here. Then they would be overjoyed with the Beast’s generosity and be eager to help him in any way they can. Or perhaps we will find that the men’s tales are just that—nothing more than tales.”
“Plans have been implemented to bring both families here, if they exist. Until then, the two men will be kept imprisoned.”
More and more he was finding they thought alike. He’d never had that strong of a bond with anyone and had only seen one couple who shared a bond like it… his grandmother and grandfather.
His grandmother insisted it was their deep love that forged their strong connection. He and Raven far from loved each other. Surprisingly, though, he had found himself growing comfortable with her in ways he never expected. At least it was a start for them to get along and hopefully be friends rather than foes.
“A decision I would have made,” Raven said, pleased they thought the same on the situation. She let her eyes linger on his. They were filled with such power that they could overwhelm if gazed upon too long. It was no wonder they called him the Beast, he was as forceful as one. She turned her eyes away. “I could use a hot drink to warm me.”
He kept hold of her hand as they walked toward the longhouse.
Not one to measure her words or wait for the right time, she blurted out, “You never answered me last time when I told you what you must do to trust me.”
“I have no answer—yet,” he said.
“Aye, you do. By not answering you confirmed you don’t trust me.” She slipped her hand out of his and walked to the longhouse, leaving him standing there.
Wolf had the overpowering urge to hurry after her, scoop her up and over his shoulder, and rush off to their bedchamber and see this settled. But that would mean he surrendered and he never surrendered to anyone, and he wouldn’t start now.
He took steps to follow after her, but by no means rushed.
His wife stood by the fire pit, her hands stretched out to the heat.
Wolf walked up behind her, his arms encircling her as his hands captured her two in his to rub warm. Only when heat returned to her fingers did he release her hands and turn her to face him, wrapping his fur cloak snug around them both.
“You are forever chilled. What happened to leave the cold forever in your bones?” It wasn’t just curiosity that had him asking. He was concerned at what may have happened to her. Even more concerned that he’d been to blame.
Memories began to flood her, memories she kept tightly tucked away. Memories she didn’t want to relive.
Wolf felt her reluctance to speak, to share her past. Her body tensed against him and a familiar shiver ran through her. He walked her to the table nearest the fire pit and ordered hot brews to be brought to them. He kept his arm around her and his cloak as well.
Her silence said more than words. She obviously didn’t trust him enough to share but then he hadn’t given her any reason to.
She shivered beside him. “That first winter alone was harsh. It set a cold in me I don’t think will ever leave.”
He rubbed and squeezed her arm, forcing warmth into her, glad she was sharing with him.
“Threadbare garments. Shoes with holes so large nothing would fill them. Food once a day if I could find it. Though it was shelter I mostly sought, desperately needing out of the cold. Death stalked me. I could feel its presence. Sometimes I thought I saw it lurking near, dark and frigid ready to swallow me whole. I’d managed to get a fire going, only it didn’t last long. It tempted, its tendrils of heat reaching out to tease me before it flickered out and left me in the cold darkness once again. If it wasn’t for—”
He waited to hear his name fall from her lips, the man she loved, but it never came. She kept it tightly hidden away, not wanting or unable to share it.
“That winter infused my bones, not with heat, but with a frigid cold and it seared my soul in a loneliness I never knew existed until…”
Again she wouldn’t say his name, this man who saved her, this man whose child she might carry. She eased herself away from him. Did she think she betrayed his memory by being in his arms? The thought annoyed him. She was his wife whether she wanted to be or not.
“You’re mine now,” he said, to him a response that meant she’d never suffer any of that again.
She glared at him a bit stunned. “I don’t belong to you.”
The strength of his response confirmed otherwise. “You do belong to me and you have my word that I will never see you go hungry, suffer the cold, or be lonely again.” He waited, ready for her protest and was surprised when it didn’t come. It wasn’t like her to be silent and he wondered over it.
She cupped her hands around the warm tankard, enjoying the heat that trickled through her at first, then began to flow strong. The warmth of the tankard hadn’t done that. It had been his words. She could argue she didn’t need anything from him, but seeing Fyn with Greta had changed something in her. Maybe too, it was seeing her brothers and da happy with the women they loved. The Mighty Beast would never love her and she wouldn’t need him to, but he would look after her. And she would owe him the same. Was that enough to build a reasonable marriage on?
Adapt.
She had no choice and hadn’t the old man reminded her of that often enough?
A hardy laugh entered the room before Lars did, a broad grin on his face. “I’m starving and have you smelled how thick the air is with pending snow?”
Raven was glad for the interruption, since she had no words for her husband, but she did have much to think about.
“More snow by nightfall for sure,” Gorm agreed, having followed in behind him.
Raven hadn’t spoken much with the man since her arrival, though she had planned to. He was always busy, directing workers, giving orders, keeping everything running smoothly. He also took the time to talk with people, share a smile or a laugh. He was well respected by all.
“A hunting party goes out today,” Gorm said.
Why?” Wolf asked. “The storage sheds are full.”
Gorm smiled. “A wolf has been spotted.”
“A new fur for our leader,” Lars boasted proudly. “Wolf and I will join them.”
“Leave the wolf alone,” Raven commanded like one in charge.
Lars’ brow knitted. “Why?”
“We don’t bother the wolves here and they don’t bother us. Harm one and you’ll bring the wrath of their leader and pack down on us,” she warned.
“Much like our own Wolf,” Lars said with a laugh that shook his thick belly.
Raven looked to each of the men as she spoke. “The last time a wolf was killed in these parts its leader and pack almost decimated the whole clan responsible for it. The wolves hunted them over time until only a few were left. The clan almost died off, while the wolves grew strong.”
Lars readily dismissed the claim. “That’s probably nothing more than a tall tale, told on cold winter nights.”
“Lady Raven speaks the truth.”
Raven looked to see Detta wrapped in a fur-lined cloak, standing just inside the door.
The old woman approached them slowly. “Ask those here in Clan Learmonth. They will tell you the tale in much more detail since Learmonth is the clan that killed the wolf.”
Several eyes widened in surprise.
“There’ll be no killing of wolves here,” Wolf ordered and Gorm acknowledged his command with a nod.
Detta did the same as if approving and appreciative of Wolf’s decision.
“What brings you here, Detta?” Wolf asked.
“I thought Lady Raven might enjoy a tour of the keep today.” Detta turned to Raven in wait of a response.
Raven shrugged. “Does it matter, since we won’t be residing there?”
“See for yourself,” Wolf offered. “If you feel you would be more comfortable there, I’ll consider it.”
Though she wore a smile, sarcasm dripped with Raven’s every word. “Oh joy, how generous of you.”
Wolf ignored her intentional jab but he didn’t ignore her when she stood. He grabbed her arm. “You will stay and have your meal, then you can tour the keep.”
She tugged her arm free. “I’m not hungry and I will do as I please.” She heard it then, the complete silence, not even the fire crackled. She had blatantly defied her husband in front of his people. She looked to see everyone staring at her and also to see the slight tic at the corner of her husband’s right eye. She shook her head and kept her voice strong. “Good Lord, you all better get used to me… I’m not an obedient wife and
I never will be.” With a quick slide off the bench, Raven was on her feet and walked over to Detta. “Let’s go.”
Detta didn’t move.
Raven wasn’t surprised that the woman remained as she was and that her eyes were focused on Wolf, waiting for his command. She, however, had no intentions of waiting. “I’ll take the tour myself,” she called out as she headed to the door. “Enjoy your meal, husband.”
Annoyance sparked in her when she stepped outside and spotted the two warriors that had followed her earlier lingering nearby. She’d had enough. It wouldn’t take much to lose them, though with the snow on the ground it would make it easier for them to track her. She’d have to think differently.
She ducked behind a cottage, then another and another, until she found the one she needed. She climbed the sturdy pine tree with ease and haste and watched below as the two warriors who’d been following her almost collided as they rushed around opposite sides of the cottage. She kept herself from laughing and giving away her hiding spot. From what she could hear of them talking, they both feared telling Wolf that they had lost her. In the end, they bravely went together to let the Mighty Beast know they had lost his wife.
It always paid to be cautious, so Raven waited several minutes after they left and was glad she did. They returned to scout the area one more time, then hurried off. She knew they were gone for good this time and got herself down out of the tree and made sure to keep herself from being spotted before reaching the keep.
She entered straight into the Great Hall, smaller than the few she had been in, but carefully maintained. A fire raged in the large hearth and a pine scent was heavy in the air, and she saw why. Branches of pine had been placed along the top of the mantel. The tables and benches appeared freshly scrubbed and newly made candles flickered with flames. What caught her attention the most were the tapestries hanging on the walls. They depicted defeated and victorious battles and in the middle of one battle scene, if one looked close enough, a wolf could be spotted, his head held proud.
“How did you lose my men?”
She really had to remain more alert to her surroundings. She turned with a smile to her husband. “With ease.”
Highlander Oath Of The Beast Page 12