He went to leave but first stopped and added logs to the dwindling fire. He didn’t turn to look at her again as he left, his mind too occupied with how he’d stop himself from keeping her in his bed.
Royden began to worry when he still hadn’t seen his wife two hours later. Had she yet to wake up? Or was she purposely avoiding him? When he finally thought to go see for himself, he was notified that Fergus approached the village and would be at the keep soon.
He went outside to wait and greet the man, eager to confront him.
Fergus was barely off his horse, his face flushed with anger, when he said, “You summons me like a servant and dare make demands?”
“And yet here you are,” Royden challenged.
“Watch it, Royden, your clan is not as powerful as it once was,” Fergus threatened with a sneer.
“The very reason you’re here,” Royden said, angry at his threat, yet calling him out for it would do no good.
“So Penn told me,” Fergus said, his top teeth rushing to grab his lower lip as if he could pull the words back.
“I figured he would, but I appreciate you confirming it for me.” Royden nodded to the keep door. “Come, we have things to discuss.”
They settled in the solar at the round table and Fergus didn’t wait for a drink to be offered. He filled a tankard with ale from the jug on the table and took a seat. He did it with a familiarity that had Royden realizing that he’d been in this room many times before. That angered him. His home had been held captive just as he had.
“You have no leverage to make demands,” Fergus said.
“This is their home and they have a right to return to it,” Royden argued.
“It doesn’t matter. A decision was made concerning them and it can’t be undone.”
“What do you mean a decision has been made concerning my clan, my family?” Royden demanded. “What decision? Who made this decision?”
“It was part of the negotiation for you and your brother’s release. Your clansmen were to be returned home as well,” Fergus informed him and emptied his tankard with a large gulp, then refilled it with more ale.
“Were you there for the negotiations?”
“No, I was informed about them afterwards and sent more warriors, so if you decided to retaliate, I’d be sufficiently prepared,” Fergus said.
“There’s only one person powerful enough to grant or take land away from chieftains and grant titles,” Royden said, not quite believing his own thought.
“King David,” Fergus confirmed and rested his arms on the table, his hand gripping his tankard as he leaned in closer toward Royden sitting across from him. “The King had no choice. He was wise in making this man his friend rather than his enemy.”
“You’re talking about the leader of the mercenaries,” Royden said.
“I am. He’s not a man you want to cross. He’s wrath himself and only a fool would go up against him. You got a taste of the savagery he puts his men through. It’s nothing compared to his personal troop of warriors. When he wants something, he doesn’t stop until he gets it.”
“How did you come to fight for him?”
“I had nothing. He offered me something. Anything is better than nothing,” Fergus said, defending his decision. “And I’m not sorry I accepted his offer. I have a beautiful wife and two wonderful bairns and I’m a chieftain with land and influence.”
“That you stole from someone else,” Royden accused.
“And who did he take it from?” Fergus argued. “Battle, bargain, or marriage are the only ways to gain land and power.”
“Is that what this man wants, land and power?”
“I don’t know what he wants. I’m not privy to his private circle. I only know what he gave me—”
“You mean what you battled endlessly for,” Royden said.
Fergus brought his fist down hard on the table. “And I’d do it again to have what I have.”
“What is this man’s name?”
“I don’t know. Those that have seen him in battle call him the Beast. If you saw him in battle you’d know why—he’s ferocious like a wild animal that needs caging.”
“What does he want with this area?”
“I don’t know. It’s none of my business.” Fergus jabbed a finger toward him. “And it’s none of yours.”
“He made it my business when he attacked my home, took me and my brother, and endless clansmen captive, killed my father, God only knows what happened to my sister and,” —Royden kept tight rein on his anger as he raised his arm to rest his elbow on the table— “he took my hand.”
Fergus had the decency to cringe at the horror that had been done to Royden. “I know it doesn’t help, but it wasn’t done on purpose and believe me when I tell you I have seen worse things cut off a man. I’m warning you as a friend—”
“I’m not your friend.”
“Then as a fellow chieftain. What’s done is done. Nothing will change that. He doesn’t fail, Royden. Whatever it is he wants with this area, he will get. And when that day comes, you better be prepared to at least tolerate him or you won’t be long for this life.”
It wasn’t long after that that Royden watched Fergus ride off. He had learned a lot from Fergus’s short visit. This man Fergus spoke about, with a mix of fear and gratitude, had no intention of leaving this area without getting what he wanted. The question was, what did he want? He had laid claim to the Clan MacDonnegal through marriage. And while Fergus might be chieftain, he was answerable to this unknown man. Royden got the sense that the person who had somehow inherited the Clan Learmonth, along with its title was somehow connected to this man as well. That left the Clan MacGlennen, his wife’s clan, that supposedly was also promised to someone, and then there was the Clan Macara, yet to learn its fate. He wouldn’t be surprised if that hadn’t already been fated for someone as well.
But why? What did this man want from this particular area? And why would the King negotiate with him? He would have to benefit from it somehow. Perhaps a guarantee that this area of the Highlands would be faithful to the King.
When Fergus finally disappeared from sight, Royden turned to enter the keep and caught sight of his wife. She looked to be coming from Mildred’s cottage and when she spotted him, she smiled, waved, and rushed toward him. She didn’t appear at all upset and his guard went up. Maybe it wasn’t going to be as easy to talk with her about last night as he had thought.
Oria stretched her hand out to him as she got near. “Who knows how long this beautiful day will last. Come walk with me.”
Habit or need, had him reaching out and taking hold, closing his hand snugly around hers. He caught a smile that almost slipped from his lips when her hand latched around his with a strength that warned she wouldn’t let him go.
They walked slowly through the village. Many smiling generously as they called out greetings. Seeing the chieftain and his wife brought back some normalcy to the clan and promise of the future just as Bethany had remarked. It definitely was what they all needed.
Oria stopped and talked with some people as if she were a friend. But to them she actually was a friend, a good one. She hadn’t deserted them after the attack. She had returned and given them what help she could.
Their walk brought them back to the keep, but at Oria’s urging and a tug of his hand she led them to the large oak tree they had once spent time sitting under. Leaves were bursting in full bloom. Soon it would be a thick canopy providing shade and a perfect place to escape to. He looked forward to seeing it once again, having thought about this spot often while away.
She sat snug against him, not letting go of his hand and he could almost read her thoughts.
“You won’t be sleeping beside me ever again,” he ordered.
“I thought you’d say that, but that’s not an order I intend to obey,” she said, turning a bright smile on him.
“I’m not giving you a choice.”
She laughed softly. “And I’m not giving you o
ne either.”
“And who do you think is going to win this?” he asked and while he thought himself sure of victory there was something in her smile that gave him pause to think otherwise.
“It would be a defeat for us both if we succumb to this.” She squeezed his hand. “We’ve suffered enough defeat. It’s time we stop fear from ruling our lives and taste victory once again.”
Royden rested his head back on the tree trunk and closed his eyes. “I almost strangled you to death last night.”
“But you didn’t. You felt my hand squeeze your arm and woke.” She smiled again. “From now on, I’ll give you a good punch when you roll near me.”
He brought his head forward and turned quickly to look at her. “You promise?”
He couldn’t believe he was asking her such a thing. He should lock her in her bedchamber at night, that way he’d know she was safe. But, God help him, he wanted her in his bed.
“I didn’t mean that,” she said. Besides, he was too thick with muscle to ever feel her inadequate punch.
“Promise me it anyway and we’ll continue to share a bed.”
Oria couldn’t refuse him since it would get her what she wanted—a chance to seal their vows.
“On one condition,” she said and when he glared at her, she was quick to explain. “I want you to join me permanently in the master bedchamber. It’s where you belong. Where we belong.”
He had been avoiding that move, thinking that if his da should—by some miracle—return, he belonged there. But after seeing how the people regarded him and Oria today, he knew it was time.
“Aye, I’ll join you there.”
“Wonderful,” she said and kissed him on the cheek. “Now tell me what Fergus told you.”
She was as eager to know as he was what had caused this misery and what they had yet to face, and he wouldn’t keep her ignorant of that. Besides, he enjoyed discussing the matter with her. She had a sharp mind and offered solid advice, much like his mum had done with his da.
He was about to detail his talk when someone screamed for Oria.
They both looked to see Penn rushing toward them. “Morgan is ill. Please. Please help my son.”
Oria was on her feet in a flash and running right past Penn, her husband following behind her.
Emily was crying while rocking the screaming bairn in her arms. “Something is wrong. He won’t stop crying. I’ve tried everything.”
Oria took the bairn from her and laid him on the bed. He was whaling his head off and scrunching his little legs up while his arms flailed about.
Royden entered behind Penn and stood to the side, watching how tender his wife was with the baby and he couldn’t help but think what he had always thought, that she would make a wonderful, loving mum.
Penn hugged his wife, comforting her, but tears were in his eyes as well. Royden didn’t blame him one bit. He’d be frightened to death if that was his son.
“I believe I know what you need, Morgan,” Oria said softly and lifted the bairn up in her arms and sat on the bed. She rested the bairn’s little bottom on her leg and with one hand cupping his tiny chest and stomach she tilted him forward some while her other hand rubbed his back.
He cried and fussed and suddenly—released a burp far too loud to come from such a small bairn and was followed shortly by another.
Oria smiled and when she eased him to rest in the crook of her arm, the little bairn smiled and snuggled against her.
She returned Morgan to his mum. “He probably stuffed himself at his last feeding.”
Emily smiled and wiped at her eyes with her sleeve before she took the bairn in her arms to hold close. “He did. I didn’t think he’d stop.”
“Slow him down a bit next time,” Oria suggested.
“He’s all right then?” Penn asked and slipped his arm around his wife and stared at his son, his eyes almost closed in sleep.
“He’s good. There’s nothing wrong with him,” Oria assured both parents.
“Thank you. Thank you so much,” Emily and Penn both took turns offering their gratitude.
This time Royden didn’t wait for his wife to reach for his hand, he took hers after stepping out of the cottage.
“How did you know what to do?” Royden asked as they walked back to the keep.
“Detta, the old woman at Learmonth who you met. She is an exceptional healer. I watched her treat many bairns,” Oria explained.
“Why watch her treat bairns when you knew there was no chance of you having any of your own with Learmonth? Or did you think to wed again after his death?” He surprised himself with the question.
“I knew I’d wed again,” she said. “As I told you and will keep reminding you. I never doubted you’d return to me. I wanted to be prepared to take care of our children.”
The woman left him speechless far too often.
“Now if my husband would stop being a stubborn arse and plant his seed where it belongs, we could get started on the five or six bairns I plan to give him.”
“So I’m not an old, stubborn arse anymore,” he asked a joy overcoming him that he hadn’t felt in a long time at the thought of having a large family with Oria. It had been something they had both once wanted and Oria hadn’t changed her mind.
“No, you’re just a stubborn arse now,” she confirmed.
“I’ll have to work on that.”
“You have a lot to work on, husband,” she said and poked him in the arm. “I want my own bairn to hold in my arms sometime this winter.”
He had almost strangled her last night while in a nightmare. How would she feel after she coupled with a savage?
Chapter 13
Royden stood by the side of the bed naked and turned a deep scowl on his wife snuggled comfortably beneath the blankets. “You will keep your promise and poke me if I get too close to you.”
Oria thought about all the promises she had made and how some of them were causing senseless sorrow.
“You hesitate,” Royden snapped.
She shook her head. “My mind wandered. I promise, but you must promise as well. If I get too close to you, you must poke me.”
“It’s not a poke I’ll be giving you when the time comes. You have definitely changed, wife,” he said, relieved he had seen to pleasuring himself before coming to her bedchamber. With his desire satisfied, it made it easier for him to sleep beside her. But then he hadn’t counted on her playful words arousing him.
“I have,” she admitted. “I’m not the young, innocent woman you once knew. And to be honest, I’m glad I’m no longer her. My da, God love him, protected me from far too much. Burnell encouraged me to learn as much as I could. He insisted I speak with the merchants that came to sell him their wares, to learn from them about distant lands they had traveled and even learn some of their languages. I found I quite enjoyed learning. It was why I accompanied Detta when she tended the ill. I wanted to learn all I could from her to be prepared for whatever the future held. What did you learn?”
His response came easily. “That there is a savage in every man.”
“You fought rough battles here,” she reminded.
“Aye and Highlanders can be a vicious lot, but they’re kind compared to some of the savages I fought.” He refused to detail what he’d been through. He hated having the memories in his head and he wouldn’t put them in hers. “It often took being more than a savage to win against them.”
“You’re not a savage, Royden,” she said, turning on her side and reaching out to lay her hand on his chest. She startled when his hand gripped her wrist, stopping her.
“Don’t touch me,” he warned with an underlying growl.
“Habit and instinct are difficult to control,” she said and when he loosened his grip, she brought her hand to rest on her stomach.
It had taken her a while to understand how much of a toll their time apart had taken on them both and the depth of how much they both had changed. How could they resume what they once had together wh
en they weren’t the same people? Maybe they couldn’t. Maybe they needed to start anew.
Nothing more was said between them. Oria turned on her side, her back to her husband and his back to her, having felt him turn. She didn’t intend to sleep at least not yet. She was going to do her best to remain awake so that if Royden had another nightmare, she could comfort him and hopefully prevent it from going any farther. He may have demanded she promise to poke him, but nothing had been said about a comforting touch.
She kept herself alert by keeping her mind busy. There was still much to be done in the keep and she began to make a mental list. Engrossed in her task, it took a yawn to shake her out of it and that was when she heard a barely detectable sound. She listened a few moments and realized what she heard was a light snore coming from her husband.
Happy he slept, she turned over to lie on her other side facing his back. She would be ready to help him if necessary. She sighed softly, content. She was where she wanted to be, where she needed to be. They couldn’t forge a good and loving future together if distance was kept between them. She was here in his bed to stay and would help fight his nightmares with him.
The sword was heavy, blood thick on its blade, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was to survive. To fight until the last breath. The battle raged on, screams and moans filled the air, warriors dropped one after another. Women ran screaming. Chaos and madness reigned.
Would it never end?
Fight. Fight. Don’t stop. You have to do this. You have to live. You have to find the one you love.
There were too many bodies. Too much blood.
Where are you? Where are you? I must find you! I must! I need to protect you, keep you safe.
More warriors rushed forward. Too many!
Run!
No, I have to find you. I have to.
“No! No! Let me go! Let me go!”
“Oria wake up. Wake up. I’m here. You’re safe. I won’t let anyone harm you.”
Royden’s strong voice yanked her out of her nightmare to find herself in his arms. Her arms shot out to wrap around his neck. “Don’t let me go, Royden. Please don’t let me go.”
Pledged to a Highlander: Highland Promise Trilogy (Book 1) Page 12