“He believes you have taken advantage of me,” Emma said bluntly. “I told him that was far from the truth.”
Rogan lowered his voice. “Did you tell him we slept together?”
“No,” she snapped, “and nor will I. No one would understand and they would not believe us…”
Rogan said what she could not. “Wed.”
“You are promised to Heather,” she reminded him as well as herself. “And I will not take from my sister what belongs to her.”
“So you are saying that she wished to wed me?”
Emma recalled Heather’s response to their father when he had informed her of the marriage arrangement. Heather had not objected nor had she smiled, she had—in a bare whisper—told their father that she would do her duty. And Emma related that to Rogan. “Heather wished to do her duty just like you, but then you requested my sister for a wife and rejected me. Heather will be your wife, not me.”
Why did her heart have to ache at the thought? Documents had been signed and sealed and nothing could change that even if Rogan had kissed her with the intensity of someone who had fallen in love. Perhaps, though, it was what she wanted to believe.
“I will have who I want for a wife,” Rogan said, as if the decision had already been settled.
“So you said once before. Determined to have your way, are you?”
Rogan leaned down close and for a moment she thought he would kiss her, but he would not dare. Her men were watching and already it did not look proper with his lips so close to hers.
“Always,” he whispered, his warm breath brushing her lips as if in a faint kiss.
She tried to move away from him and winced from the discomfort it brought her shoulder.
Rogan adjusted her in his arms and ordered, “Do not be stubborn. Stay put, so your shoulder will suffer no pain.”
She held her tongue, for she could not tell him that it was unexpectedly falling in love with him that caused her the most pain and being here in his arms did not help. When her father had first mentioned a possible union between Rogan and her… she had been hesitant. She had not believed he would agree and she had been right. He preferred the beautiful sister over the plain one. But her heart had not been set on the union, so she had not been as disappointed as others might have thought. Ever since the incident with Daniel, she had believed that she would never find love, and she had accepted her lot.
Then Rogan had to go and kiss her, hold her, care for her, and he had changed everything. And worse, she had seen the passion in his eyes for her, but where was the love?
“Sleep and get the rest you need,” Rogan ordered. “You are safe in my arms.”
She could not help but ask, “Am I?” His answer surprised her.
“For now.”
A shiver raced through her, and he tucked her cloak more tightly around her, but it was not the chilled air that had caused her to quiver. It was what his words had implied. Would there come a time she was not safe in his arms? A time when they would do more than just sleep in bed together? The prospect frightened and excited her.
“We will camp early tonight and I will see you kept warm.”
He could not mean that he intended to sleep beside her, not in front of her warriors. Already, they whispered among themselves about her being alone in the cottage with Rogan. If he slept beside her, surely they would think he was laying claim to her.
No, he would not do that. He was promised to another. He had a duty to see to. She was tired and not thinking clearly.
“Sleep, you are safe,” he urged again.
Her eyes closed of their own accord. Aye, she was safe here in his arms and pleased to be there, until the time came she would be there no more.
Rogan felt her body grow limp as sleep took hold of her. He stared at her so content in sleep, but then she had slept contentedly in his arms the last few nights. It was almost as if she belonged there in his arms. That they had been waiting for her. She had driven him near to madness with her stubbornness and her courage had astounded him. She was a remarkable woman and an honorable one. She would not betray her sister and steal her intended away, and he admired her noble nature.
Was he as honorable as her?
The thought plagued him. He had a duty to his clan and he would see it fulfilled, though how was the question.
Rogan kept the pace steady, though not hard. He would not have Emma jolted about and plagued with pain. No one seemed to complain about their plodding pace, not his warriors or the Macinnes warriors. And while glances were cast their way, the warriors were busier keeping their eyes on the surrounding landscape. He knew they were concerned about the ghost warriors.
However, Rogan was not. They were headed home in defeat. Why bother to attack them now? No, the Dark Dragon had left his mark on them and he would leave them to return home with their tails tucked between their legs. Not something Rogan favored, but then how did one conquer a myth?
They rode several more hours and as Emma began to stir, Rogan ordered all to stop and make camp for the night. They had ridden farther than Rogan had expected, so he heard no mumbling complaints from anyone, though his warriors would know better than to do so.
“Emma,” he said softly, giving her a light squeeze.
Emma opened her eyes. “Are we home yet?”
“Not nearly, though we are making camp for the night.”
“I could use a stretch and some food,” she said surprised by her grumbling stomach.
“Your stomach makes that quite clear,” he said with a smile. “I am glad to see that you will eat because you are hungry, rather than force yourself to do so to stay strong.”
He knew her too well. Had she truly failed to realize how close they had become over the last few days?
“A good sign that I heal,” she said.
James was off his horse and over to them as soon as Rogan called a halt for camp to be set up. He reached up to help her off the horse.
Rogan did not object. He let the man take her, but when he saw how unsteady she was on her feet, he dismounted in a flash and had his arm around her just as quickly, leaving James a bit stunned.
“I will see to Emma. You see to your men,” Rogan directed with an abrupt firmness that cautioned he would not be disobeyed.
James reluctantly took his leave, and Rogan could see that he was quickly making an enemy.
“James means only to help,” Emma said.
“He can help by following my orders,” Rogan said and with his arm around her waist and after snatching a rolled blanket off the back of the horse, he walked her over to a large pine tree. He pushed a bunch of fallen pine needles together with his foot and spread the blanket over them, then took her by the waist and helped her to sit.
Emma almost sighed aloud, the pallet so soft and welcoming after being on a horse all day.
“Stay put,” he ordered something he found himself repeating often to her.
She yawned. “I am not going anywhere.” How she could still be tired after sleeping a good part of the day away told her she had yet to recover sufficiently. While she had no want to rest, she knew it was necessary. She intended to be fully recovered and ready to join Patience in their search for Heather. Besides, she needed her full strength to keep her wits about her when it came to Rogan.
Warriors from both clans got busy setting up camp. She was surprised when after spying James speaking with Rogan, he came over to her and built a campfire not far from her.
“It will keep you warm on this chilly night,” James informed her. “And if you need anything, you will let me know.”
“You will be the first I confide in,” she assured him and he took his leave, a wide smile deepening his many wrinkles.
Soon the camp was filled with delicious scents. Rabbits roasted on spits and the pungent smell of fish sizzled on fire stones. They would eat well tonight. Emma only hoped she could keep her eyes open long enough to eat.
It was as if Rogan heard her, for he was suddenly
in front of her with a bowl of food.
She stared at the bowl, and then up at him.
He smiled. “I took a bowl or two and some goblets as well from the cottage. Take this and I will get you some ale the men have brought along. I would brew your leaves, but there are none left.”
Emma took the bowl and Rogan left to fetch the ale. She had worried that her mixture would be spent, and she did not know if Rogan would have the plants she needed in his kitchen garden to mix more. If not she would have to search the woods near his home.
Rogan returned with another bowl in his hand and a goblet in the other. “We will share the drink.”
He sat beside her and she was glad for his company, though she could have done without the questioning glances from her warriors.
They spoke little, both hungry from the daylong journey, and Rogan could see how fatigued Emma was. She needed rest, for they would leave with first light for another day’s tedious journey.
“You will tell me if you grow too tired to travel,” Rogan said.
“You know I will not, besides I will ride with you. Your arms are most comfortable and your chest, though hard, is pleasant to rest against.” While her remark was made innocently enough, she wondered if somehow it might be considered improper. She was glad no one was close enough to hear them.
Rogan did not think her words improper at all. He liked that she enjoyed being in his arms and he would see to keeping her there as long as possible. “I am glad you are comfortable there. You fit quite nicely.”
He was right. His arms did seem a perfect fit, but she had no right to be in them. A yawn snuck up on her and her hand went to her mouth as if to catch it.
Rogan wanted to lie back with her on the blanket and wrap himself around her and sleep—in each other’s arms—as they had done the last few nights. But that would be most improper to do in front of her warriors.
“I do not think my eyes will stay open much longer,” Emma said.
“Then sleep, for we have an early start in the morning.” Rogan collected the bowls and goblet. “You need more than that cloak to keep you warm. I will bring you a blanket.”
Emma did not want another blanket. She wanted him sleeping wrapped around her. She would miss him tonight and the thought sent a shiver through her. She pulled her cloak more tightly around her before she lay back on the makeshift bed. She fought to keep her eyes open until Rogan returned, but exhaustion won the battle and she was soon asleep.
Rogan draped the wool blanket over her when he returned, not surprised to find her asleep. He would be glad when they finally reached home where she would get the proper care and rest she needed. And where he could start setting things right.
James approached him with determined steps and Rogan was ready for him. Before the man could say a word, Rogan spread another blanket on the opposite side of the campfire from Emma.
“I will take guard of Emma now,” James said and nodded at the spread blanket.
“Emma’s father made her my responsibility,” Rogan reminded. “You see to your men.”
James appeared ready to argue.
“That is an order, not a request,” Rogan said like a leader accustomed to commanding his warriors.
James stomped off, mumbling to himself and passing Liam as he went.
“Watch yourself with him,” Liam cautioned once beside Rogan. “He will report all he sees to Donald Macinnes.”
“Let him report what he wants,” Rogan said. “How does the surrounding area look?”
“We have no company from what I can see, though it is what I cannot see that worries me. I would give anything to know how these warriors can materialize without warning.”
“If they do follow, I believe it is to see their mission done.”
“And won,” Liam said, shaking his head.
“Not completely. They will expect us to retaliate and will be ready when we do.”
“Then what do we do?” Liam asked.
“The unexpected.”
Chapter Sixteen
Emma woke with a start. Had she heard someone call her name or had she been dreaming? She laid there, the campfire having dwindled to embers and the camp itself eerily silent. Not a soul stirred, nor a sound could be heard. She knew that guards had been posted on the perimeters of the camp, so they were well protected, but somehow that did not settle her unease.
She sat up and saw that Rogan was sleeping soundly on the other side of the campfire, her stirring not having roused him. She looked over the camp and saw that all the warriors appeared to sleep as soundly as Rogan.
“Emma!”
“Patience?” She looked around, expecting to see her sister.
“Emma!”
She scrambled to her feet and called out, “Patience!”
When no one in the camp reacted to her shout, she knew something was wrong.
“Dreaming,” she said softly. She had to be dreaming.
“Emma, hurry.”
She did as Patience said and rushed off into the woods. It was so dark that she could barely see anything, yet her feet seemed to know where to take her.
“Emma, stop!”
She halted and waited.
“Listen,” Patience said, “we do not have much time. I did not send that message. Pay it no heed. Remember all I have taught you and follow your instincts. Do not—”
Footfalls turned Patience silent and Emma looked around, frightened by the heavy steps drawing ever closer.
“Do not trust anyone and stay brave. I am well and we will rescue Heather. Now hurry and go!”
Emma turned to run and nearly stumbled as she stopped abruptly. Before her stood a massive figure draped in black, the hood of his cloak drawn down over his head and face. His arms were spread out from his sides, making it appear as if he had massive wings. A black mist swirled at his feet and began to creep toward her. She looked around to run, but it was too late, the mist was licking at her legs and she could not move. He had her trapped. She trembled as the mist crawled up along her body. She had never seen anything so sinister or felt so frightened, and she reacted out of sheer instinct—she let out a bloodcurdling scream.
Rogan jumped to his feet, taking his sword with him. He rushed to Emma’s side when he saw her struggling in her sleep and hurried to rescue her from her nightmare.
He sat beside her and as he reached out for her, said gently, “You are safe, Emma, I am here. Nothing can harm you.”
Her eyes sprang open and it took her a moment for her to recognize Rogan and recall where she was, then she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face against his chest, tears falling to wet his shirt.
Rogan held her tight, felt her frightened shiver and her tears. He looked out at the camp, knowing her high-pitched scream had to have woken others, and saw James standing near the dwindling campfire along with several of his men, their swords in hand. Rogan’s men surrounded them, ready to protect if necessary.
“A nightmare,” Rogan informed the tense man. “Dawn is on the horizon. Have your men ready to go once the sun is strong in the sky.”
“I will speak with Emma before we take our leave,” James said and did not wait for a response. He turned and waved for his men to follow.
Rogan would deal with James later. Now he was more concerned with Emma and her nightmare. He blamed himself. Whenever her sleep had turned fitful, he had comforted her with soothing words and a gentle touch. She had calmed every time. This time, however, he had not been there to protect her and that angered him.
He wanted to know about her nightmare so that he could assuage her worries, but the tight grip she had on him told him she was not ready to talk. What she needed now was simply to be held and reassured.
Emma could not stop the shivers from racing through her body, and she could not get the image of that sinister figure out of her head. She had never felt as threatened as she had in her dream. Then she recalled what had actually made her scream and her body was racked with more shivers.
The black-garbed figure had raised its arms and reared its head and Emma could have sworn it had been a dragon.
“Those leaves you brew,” Rogan said. “Do any grow around here? I could pick them and make you a brew. It might help.”
She raised her head off his chest, shaking it. “There are too many plants that resemble each other and picking the wrong one could prove deadly. Besides, the leaves have to be dried before they can be used. Perhaps you will have what I need in your kitchen garden.”
“Then the sooner we get home the better.”
Was it? Would going to his home prove better than going to hers? At her home she could at least question the warrior that had brought the message. If she was to believe her dream—more a nightmare—then Patience had not sent the message, but if not her… who?
Rogan was eager to question her, but decided it could wait until she was on his horse with him. They could talk without interruption and he would make certain no one would be able to hear their conversation.
“I need to see to my men,” he said. “Will you be all right until I return for you?”
“I will be fine,” she assured him. “It was just a nightmare that frightened me.”
“A nightmare I want to hear all about.” He moved away from her reluctantly and stood, then offered his hand to her.
She took it, wanting to stand firmly on her feet in more ways than one.
“We can discuss it while you ride with me,” he said and waited to see if she would object.
“As I told you yesterday, I will ride with you. I want to heal as fast as possible so that I may continue my search for my sisters.”
“I will return shortly,” he said and waved over Liam. “Liam will wait with you until I return.” His hand went up as her mouth opened. “Have you not learned by now that it is senseless to protest my decisions?”
“I was going to thank you—”
Rogan laughed. “I am to believe that?”
“Of course, since spending a little time with Liam could very well prove advantageous. It is obvious he knows you well and with some gentle probing, I can learn more about you that could prove rather useful when dealing with you.”
Lords of the Isles Page 135