True Love Brides 02 - The Highlander’s Curse

by Claire Delacroix

  The wolf was silvery grey, its snout and paws darker than its back, its tail lush. Its pelt should adorn a lady’s bed, Garrett’s lady’s bed, a token that was proof of his intent to protect the woman pledged to be his own. But Garrett had no woman and he doubted there was a woman alive who could accept his curse. His life was lonely and he feared it would remain so, particularly as his ailment had suddenly become so much worse.

  Perhaps it was simpler to choose to be alone.

  The wolf stepped into a patch of sunlight, glanced about itself, then bent to drink.

  Garrett raised his crossbow to fire, then froze when the wolf straightened. He felt its heartbeat accelerate. It raised its head and folded its ears back, sniffing and scanning, then snarled.

  That was when Garrett saw the woman. She was on her knees as if in prayer, her head bowed and her hands folded before herself. He had not seen her at first because her cloak was green and her hood pulled over her hair. She was utterly still, as few people in his experience could be.

  Her thoughts were so quiet that even he with his gift had not been aware of her presence. That astonished him.

  At the wolf’s snarl, though, her head snapped up and terror flooded her mind. Garrett had time to see that she was lovely before the wolf leapt toward her with teeth bared.

  Without hesitation, Garrett lifted the crossbow and fired.

  A lesser hunter would have struck the maiden instead of the wolf. The angle was against him and the wolf moved quickly. But Garrett’s arrow went straight through the wolf, and he knew he struck its heart. The wolf’s body jerked, and the beast howled as it fell. The cry turned plaintive and faded, even as the blood streamed through its fur to the ground. Garrett grimaced at the explosion of pain and fury that filled the beast’s thoughts. He staggered a bit under the intensity of its reaction, for he had never felt the like, but the wolf’s anguish already began to fade.

  Garrett strode toward the fallen wolf, pulling out his knife.

  The lady had not moved. Garrett was surprised that she had not screamed. As he bent over the wolf and ensured that he finished what was begun, he was aware that she seemed to have been struck to stone. There was a prospect that was less than ideal. The wolf’s pain ended, a void of silence filling Garrett’s mind where his awareness of the wolf had been.

  Where were the woman’s thoughts?

  Was she simple? Was that why her mind was still?

  He had never met anyone who exuded such tranquility and now that the wolf was dead, he could consider the mystery. Was she mute? This was a place where one prayed for healing, so she might have some ailment.

  ’Twould be a crime for one so lovely to be less than perfect. Garrett did not dare to look directly at her, not before he had composed his features. He knew the torment he experienced at the sound of other thoughts could be read in his expression—particularly when one died as this wolf had done. He wiped his knife blade on the hem of his cloak before returning it to his scabbard. He would remove the pelt from the carcass when she was gone, lest he shock her.

  Still he marveled that he sensed no tumult of thoughts and questions. She had been frightened and now he knew she was relieved. No more than that. Slowly, so as not to alarm her, he raised his gaze to meet hers. He was aware of the blood on his kilt and on his hands, the grim finality of what he had done. He was aware of the dirt on his boots and the mire on his skin, for he had been stalking the wolf for many weeks.

  She was watching him, but not with horror or disgust. Her breath was coming quickly, her eyes wide. They were a magnificent shade of green and thickly lashed, her features lovely and fine. Her hood had fallen back to reveal that her hair was auburn, and neatly plaited. Her hair was uncovered though and she wore no wimple, indicating that she was a maiden. Her slender hands were still raised, her fingertips upon her lush mouth.

  “Are you injured?” he asked, when still she said nothing.

  She shook her head, her gaze darting to the wolf and then to his sheathed blade. She studied his hands for a moment, then looked at his face and swallowed. “You moved so quickly when I could not move at all.” Her voice was low and soft, filled with a gentleness that made Garrett yearn to protect her.

  Not simple, then, and not a mute.

  She must be one who had come to pray here, one who did not understand the forest and its ways. What did she pray for? Garrett wanted very much to know. Why was she alone and undefended?

  Only then did he hear the soft whisper of her thoughts, a stream of questions and impressions no more intrusive than the murmur of a brook. He sensed her curiosity about him, her awareness of him. But her presence did not trouble him, as that of others did. He could stand and be aware of her thoughts and not wish to flee. Indeed, he was intrigued by all that he sensed and saw. He wanted only to draw closer to her and learn more.

  Why was she so different from others he had known?

  Could Mhairi’s promise have been right?

  Could this beautiful maiden be his future? Garrett doubted a man as cursed as he knew himself to be could ever see such fortune.

  “The choice was easily made between the lady and the wolf,” he said with resolve. “I knew that if I did not act quickly, the wolf would make its own choice—and that on this matter, as on so many others, the beast and I would not agree.”

  He had hoped to tempt her smile and was disappointed when he failed.

  “You have tracked this wolf then,” she said, her gaze falling to its corpse. “You are a hunter.” He nodded, feeling her respect for that task. “How long and how far?”

  “Too long and too far.” Garrett dared to take a step closer. “Though I cannot object to where the path has led me.” He dared to meet her gaze and let her see his admiration of her beauty.

  She caught her breath. He sensed her desire to flee, a flutter of panic within her, then she mustered a determination. She held her ground and lifted her chin. He was fascinated that this exquisite creature might fight an inner battle that was in any way similar to his own.

  “Do you know where you are?”

  Garrett smiled. “I stand in the company of a lovely lady.” It was no lie. He realized that he had previously had no luck with uttering the words of a courtier because he did not believe them to be true. In this case, he was surely snared.

  And he did not wish to be free.

  “I would do the same again, if only to see her smile.”

  She regarded him, her cheeks burning crimson. “I apologize, sir, for I am poorly practiced in this game.”

  “Surely not. A lady so lovely as yourself much have many ardent admirers.”

  She smiled then, and Garrett was dazzled by the sight. “Surely so!” she argued, her eyes twinkling. “I am routinely struck mute in the company of others and overlooked by most as a result. I have no suitors, sir.”

  Garrett smiled. “Yet you speak with me, quite readily it seems.” He felt lighter in her presence, at ease in a way he seldom did. Indeed, it seemed that killing the wolf had changed his prospects for the better.

  The maiden surveyed him, then exhaled. “Indeed. Perhaps I should imperil myself more often.”

  Garrett laughed for the first time in months and her smile broadened. She seemed to sparkle before him, her delight in their conversation as great as his own. “Perhaps the reward is not worth such a sacrifice. Perhaps there are other ways to coax your words forth.”

  She flicked a glance at the spring, then back to him.

  “Surely you cannot have come to pray for a suitor?”

  “I came to pray for boldness, sir, and a measure of it seems to have found me.” She grimaced. “Either that or terror loosed my tongue.”

  Garrett pretended to consider this. “If you mean to imperil yourself again as a test, perhaps you will have need of a protector.”

  She smiled at him so warmly that his heart clenched. “Sadly, I do not have one, sir.” She was blushing furiously and he could not imagine what made her heart race so. “Truly, i
t would safer to first ensure that the effect was not wrought by your presence alone.”

  “You think me safer company than a hungry wolf, then,” he teased. “I am much reassured.”

  “Only because I am not a hungry wolf myself,” she retorted. She caught her breath, as if surprised by herself, then knotted her fingers together and blushed yet more. “I wonder, sir, if you might come to Seton Manor this night. I would see you rewarded for killing this wolf on the lands of my sister’s husband.”

  The very suggestion sent terror through Garrett’s heart, for he remembered full well what had happened the last time he had entered a keep.

  At the same time, he could not imagine losing this enticing maiden, not before he knew far more of her than was already the case. Perhaps that one experience had been an exception. Perhaps her family were as tranquil in their thoughts as she.

  Perhaps the reward of her company was worth any price.

  “I would ask a boon of you first, my lady.” Garrett took a step closer to her and fairly felt her quiver. He held up a finger. “One kiss, then all is balanced between us.”

  Her breath came quickly at his suggestion and he could fairly taste her uncertainty. He wondered whether she had ever been kissed by a man before. He could not look away from the intensity of her gaze and her uncertainty made him feel uncommonly protective of her.

  “Why?”

  “Your sister’s husband may believe you owe me much more than a kiss for this deed on this day,” he said softly. “But if ever you come to me, my lady, I will not have it be because you were commanded to do so. I would have you come to me by your own choice.”

  She swallowed and he watched her throat work. “I think your terms most fair,” she whispered and he knew she spoke the truth. He sensed the anticipation within her, the attraction mirroring his own, and again, was amazed that her presence was so serene.

  Garrett stepped closer and touched a finger to her chin. He was aware of her desire to flee and hide. At the same time, he was honored by her trust. She struggled to overcome her uncertainties and he admired her all the more. He moved slowly, not wanting to startle her, though he yearned to crush her against himself and kiss her thoroughly.

  He slid his thumb across her skin and felt her shiver. Her eyes shone as she studied him and those ripe lips parted in invitation, making him recall her determination to be bold. Garrett’s chest tightened at the sight of her vulnerability.

  Then he bent and gently captured her mouth beneath his own. She shook like a new tree, and he thought for a second that he had lost her. But her newfound audacity carried the day, for she closed her eyes and placed her hands on his shoulders.

  Welcoming his touch.

  It was enough to make him dizzy. As he deepened his kiss, Garrett knew Mhairi had been right and he had finally found the woman who could quiet the tumult within him.

  Even though he had yet to learn her name.

  *

  The rewards of boldness were not to be underestimated.

  Annelise closed her eyes as the hunter kissed her, unable to fight the pleasure awakened by his touch. If she had ever guessed a kiss could be this wondrous, she might have taken a risk sooner.

  As it was, she never wanted him to stop.

  Even with her eyes closed, Annelise was aware that he was so much taller and broader than she, that he had strength far beyond her own. He was a practical and competent man, one who hunted wolves and killed them. It was easy to see that he took responsibility for those beneath his authority and did not shy away from a difficult task. She could envision him as laird of his own holding, a man who could be relied upon to provide protection and justice, one who would never abuse his authority or take more than his due.

  He was a man in truth, rugged and tanned, his clothing simple but well made. There was a practicality about him, and she sensed that he carried no item that was not of use to him on a regular basis. His hair was dark blond and that, combined with his tan, made him look golden. His eyes were so vivid a blue that they seemed to reflect the sky. She was not so bold as to look directly upon him, but she had noticed how his laced leather jerkin showed the muscled breadth of his chest to advantage, how the undyed linen of his shirt made his tan look deeper. His kilt was woven in the colors of the forest, one end cast over his shoulder like a cloak. His boots were high but she could still see the powerful strength of his legs. Just a glimpse of his body had been enough to weaken her knees.

  His kiss completed what that glimpse had begun. Annelise felt as close to swooning as ever she had and wondered how any soul resisted such pleasure as this. The hunter held her gently but firmly, one hand tilting her face upward for his kiss, his fingertips just beneath her chin. His other hand rested on her waist, steadying her but not claiming her. She was free enough that she could step back and stop the embrace if she so desired, but Annelise did not so desire.

  She wanted more.

  All she had ever wanted was an honorable man for a husband, a home and children. She knew little of this hunter, not even his name, but his sure touch and his tender kiss told her all she believed she needed to know.

  Her choice to be bold had already borne fruit.

  Annelise was not surprised when he ended their kiss, nor by the ruefulness in his smile when she dared to look up at him. She was disappointed that such pleasure should end, but hoped for another kiss. She bit her lip shyly, still tingling with the warmth of his caress.

  “You would tempt a saint, my lady,” he whispered. “And I am no saint.”

  “Do not speak thus!” Annelise protested, feeling her cheeks burn. “I am no temptress.”

  “Your kiss entices me as no other.”

  “It is not due to any amorous skill on my part.” She dared to tease him. “Perhaps you tempt my reaction, sir.”

  His smile was quick. “Or perhaps we awaken something in each other.”

  Annelise caught her breath that his words should so closely echo her own thoughts. “Destiny,” she whispered in delight.

  “I do not like that notion,” he said with a shake of his head and she felt crushed. He raised his hands to let them rest lightly on her shoulders and Annelise could not look away from the warmth in his gaze. His fingers curled, his thumbs moving against her shoulders in a slow and beguiling stroke. “It implies that we have no choices to make, that all is set in stone from the moment of our birth.” He took a breath, then stepped back so there was a space between them. “I make choices and act upon them, my lady.”

  Annelise was confused. Did he mean to turn away and leave her? She could not believe it, but could make no sense of his retreat. “You reject me?”

  “I protect you,” he replied gently. “Even from myself. Even against my own desire.”

  “Why?”

  “You are innocent. You are noble. You already have said that we are on the lands of your sister’s husband. I would not willingly choose to place myself in his court of justice or sully your name with whispered rumor.” He lowered his voice. “No man of honor takes more than his due.”

  His words made Annelise smile, for there was no one to see them in this place much less to gossip about her choices. “If not destiny, what power is at work?”

  “Recognition,” he answered without hesitation. “I believe we see more keenly with senses other than sight. I believe that you and I perceive something in each other, though we cannot name it as yet.”

  “Like what?”

  He shrugged and glanced away, as if intent upon hiding his thoughts from her. Annelise dismissed the idea as it made little sense. “Who can say? In old tales, one of us would have a strength to compensate for the weakness of the other.”

  Annelise was delighted by this. He loved old tales as much as she did! “The other way, as well,” she said.

  He nodded. “Together a pair is greater than the sum of the parts.” Annelise nodded happily. He was watching her, his eyes bright and his firm lips curved into a slight smile. He seemed enchanted by h
er, which was a wondrous thing, for Annelise was certainly intrigued by him. She had never met a more alluring man, never come under the protection of one, and certainly had never been kissed by one. She studied his mouth, unable to help herself, remembering the feel of his lips against her own. Something fluttered in her belly and she felt warm in a way that made little sense.

  She spoke quickly, wanting only his promise, and immediately feared she had demanded too much. “Then you will come to Seton Manor tonight?”

  “I will try,” he said, his reserve unmistakable.

  “It is not far. I walked from there myself just now. The road will take you to the very gates…”

  His warm fingertip landed across her lips, silencing her. Indeed, the roughness of his skin, so different from her own, sent a surge of heat through her. Her heart skipped and her mouth went dry.

  How she yearned for another kiss.

  The hunter leaned close, his voice low with intent. “It is not distance that will keep me from your side, my lady.”

  Annelise stared at him, uncertain what to think.

  “I will try to come to the hall,” he pledged, then bent and replaced his fingertip with his mouth. Annelise closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of him even as she savored his caress. She felt the dappled sunlight on her head and heard the quiet murmur of the stream. The wind moved through the trees, and the glade seemed to hold the moment still in time. His mouth moved against hers once more, provoking an even greater response than before.

  When he broke his kiss this time, Annelise kept her eyes closed, wanting to be sure she never forgot this moment. She hoped that it was but the first of many they would share, then opened her eyes.

  The hunter was gone—as surely as if he had never been.

  Even the carcass of the wolf was gone.

  There was blood on the ground, proof that she had not dreamed this interval.

  Annelise turned in place, straining her ears but hearing nothing beyond the usual sounds of a sunlit glade in a forest. Her lips still tingled and she could taste his skin upon hers. He was no figment of her imagination, but a man skilled in moving silently in the woods.