Clara’s Vow

by Madeline Martin

  “Reid,” she moaned his name as she dragged him closer to kiss him.

  His mouth found her sweet lips, wishing he didn’t have to resist. But even as he tried to pull away, her hands fisted into his gambeson, and he was forced to remain where he stood.

  “I want ye, Reid,” she whispered against his mouth.

  He groaned in his longing for her. His cock ached with the urge to give her exactly what she wanted. What they both wanted.

  “Ye’re a maid.” He tried to extract himself from her once more, but she tightened her hold. “Ye’re going to be a nun, Clara.”

  “And I’ll never have this opportunity again.” Desperation tinged her voice. “To hold ye, to experience yer body and mine together, to truly understand what it feels like between a man and a woman.”

  He stared down at her. It was a grave mistake when she was so incredibly beautiful, when desire was so evident on her lovely face.

  He wanted her. God, how he wanted her.

  From the moment he’d laid eyes on her, and throughout the months that followed, he hadn’t stopped wanting her. And even now, when she was partially naked in his arms, and he knew he should bloody well walk away, he still could not stop himself from needing her.

  “’Twill be my only chance to feel what such intimacy is like.” Clara released his gambeson, holding him in place now with only her crystal-blue gaze. “Please.”

  Shite.

  Before he even agreed, they were both sinking to the forest floor. His prick strained against his breeches in anticipation.

  Her fingers worked over the fastenings of his gambeson, and he did not move to stop her. Not even when she pushed it from his shoulders and drew up his leine. He pulled it over his head and stared down at her, naked legs visible beneath her lifted skirt where she sat on the ground, her lovely firm breasts still bared above her bodice.

  She was the most beautiful woman in all of Scotland. And though she should not be, she would be his.

  He laid his gambeson on the ground as he guided her onto her back, bracing himself over the top of her. “I dinna want to hurt ye.”

  She shook her head, silently reassuring him. Though he wanted nothing more than to plunge into her and stroke their bodies into release, he took his time as he lay over her, kissing her, the ties of his trews still in place.

  If this would be her only opportunity to be with a man, he wanted to ensure the act would be memorable, filled with pleasure. He tilted her chin toward his face and lowered his head to kiss her tenderly. As their lips and tongues mated, he guided her hands to the ties and let her tug them free.

  His cock sprang free without decorum. Eager and rock hard. Clara pulled her gaze from his and glanced down, her eyes widening.

  Reid drew away slightly. “We dinna have to—”

  Her fingers curled around his shaft, silencing his words, and muting any thoughts but the tantalizing sensation of her slender fingers exploring his length. Her touch wandered up and down, from base to tip, where she ran her thumb over the spongy head.

  A groan rumbled low in his chest.

  Clara focused on him now as he had with her earlier when he had brought her to crises. Fascination played over her features as she observed his pleasure at her ministrations.

  Reid refused to allow himself to release with such sensual touches. Not when he meant to show her with his body what he’d previously introduced with his hand.

  Tenderly, he removed her exploration from his cock and positioned himself between her thighs. He tilted her chin toward him once more before he entered her, kissing her softly, eager to claim her as his.

  9

  Clara lost herself in Reid’s handsome hazel eyes and yielded to the longing burning through her. There was pressure between her legs, and she widened her thighs to better cradle his body.

  Reid’s back trembled slightly beneath her hand, and she understood how purposefully he was restraining himself to ensure he didn’t cause her harm.

  “Please don’t worry,” Clara said. “Ye won’t hurt me.”

  He nodded, but his body did not relax as he thrust into her with a single swift motion. A pinch of pain flashed through her awareness. Reid’s brows furrowed. “Are ye all right?”

  “Aye.” Clara tightened her hold on him. “Don’t stop.”

  With gritted teeth, he eased out of her before nudging back in. The thickness of his arousal gliding into the softness of hers was an oddly foreign feeling. His mouth lowered to hers, and she gave herself over to his kiss as her body adjusted to their coupling.

  Pleasure tingled in an intoxicating manner with each flex of his hips and soon the sensation overwhelmed any discomfort, and the fullness was no longer foreign but delightful. Clara let her hips undulate with Reid’s, joining his careful rhythm.

  All around her was the wet, earthy scent of the forest, mingled with the spicy familiarity of his smell. It was erotic and enticing, the same as his breath that huffed hot against her ear from his exertions and how his banded stomach squeezed with each thrust into her. Clara’s hands explored his powerful abdomen, rippling arms and the top of his broad back, mindful to avoid his injuries.

  She closed her eyes and surrendered to the wonderfulness of all of it, from the way he stretched her as their bodies connected, to the way her breast fit perfectly into his hands. She savored it all with the knowledge this would be the only time she would enjoy it, as she would never again have this.

  His pace increased, and her thighs squeezed around his hips. She rocked faster against him to match his speed. Their breath came in pants that mingled with groans and grunts of raw, primal pleasure. Heat built at Clara’s core, the same as when he’d touched her so intimately.

  His hand went between them, stroking her as he had once before. Suddenly, an explosion of pleasure rocketed through her, sending stars flashing before her eyes as Reid’s thrusts grew shorter and more insistent.

  Abruptly, he jerked himself free of her, his fist working over his shaft. He uttered a cry and fell forward as his seed spilled onto the forest floor.

  The warm, comfortable heat that might have otherwise left Clara in a buoyant, languid state suddenly cooled into something she did not like. While she had been a maiden up until this point, her practices with healing made her quite knowledgeable on what went on between a man and a woman.

  She had known there would be pain, possibly blood. She had known her body would adjust to it, and pleasure would follow. And she had known as well that a man usually spent his seed within a woman’s womb. To not do so was the sort of action a man would take with a woman he did not consider suitable to carry his child.

  He’d likely held back out of consideration for her. After all, a nun in a maternal way would not do. Regardless, the action still stung.

  It had robbed her of experiencing the completion of his pleasure, of their bodies rejoicing fully in one another. It was as though she had missed a critical piece of him, as if he had access to all of her, and she had been a mere observer to him.

  She pulled up her bodice, feeling at once foolish.

  Reid gave her a sheepish grin. “Sorry. I—”

  She shook her head, not wanting to hear what he intended to say, what she already knew: that she was meant for the convent, that he didn’t desire a family or a place to call home.

  That everything she’d ever secretly longed for, she could never have because he wanted none of it.

  “Did I hurt ye?” He fastened his trews and quickly came to her.

  She shook her head again as she worked to find her voice. “Nay. Ye were very gentle.”

  He hadn’t meant to cause offense. Most certainly, he hadn’t intended to make her chest squeeze with the tension it did.

  Yet that hurt swelled between them like a wall.

  “I wouldna have…” He cleared his throat. “If ye’d asked me to stop—”

  “I know.” She was being unfair.

  Then, she did what she’d always done—she shoved aside her
displeasure and put her attention to him, reaching for his chest. He was still absent his leine, and the icy breeze left his skin prickled with the cold.

  He drew her into his arms, and all at once, she didn’t have to shove aside her aching heart. There, enveloped in his embrace, breathing in the familiar spice of his scent, her heart flipped in her chest to something awed and enamored with the man who stared down at her with hazel eyes.

  “Clara,” he said.

  “Reid.”

  He pulled in a breath as though he wanted to say something. Instead, he pressed a tender, lingering kiss to her mouth. “Let’s get ye to the fire.”

  She nodded, and they gathered the bit of wood they’d salvaged. The damp timber made for smoky flames, but it was still warm and a far cry better than nothing. As they ate, Reid sat closer to Clara than he had in the past, looking at her often with considering glances and lightly caressing her any chance possible. A stroke over her upper arm, his palm on her knee, a tender rub on the shoulder. Every affectionate gesture made the soreness between her legs throb with need once more.

  She remained quiet as they sat together, uncertain what to say. While he seemed to suffer from the same affliction of limited conversation, the silence that nestled between them wasn’t awkward but companionable.

  Sitting together thus made it far too easy to envision a future together—the life she had so desperately wanted, only with a longing that was even more palpable than before.

  So too was the poignancy of its impossibility.

  It was a good thing Clara was meant to go to the abbey. Being with a man who did not wish to create a family and a settled life would only serve to break her heart. Better to forego the idea of love altogether than to spend a lifetime chasing what could never be.

  Reid didn’t want Clara to join a convent.

  The thought had tumbled around in his mind for some time now, though he’d done his best to ignore it. But now, more than ever, he had no choice but to acknowledge the realization.

  It was at the forefront when their bodies had joined together in that exquisite moment of passion and had remained as they dressed and ate. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop looking at her, marveling at the way the light shone off her glossy hair and how her cheeks turned pink when she caught him glancing in her direction while they ate. His hands wandered to her often, eager to be closer, even if it was a mere brush of their fingers or a touch of her arm.

  He treasured all of her. And longed for more.

  But her refraining from joining the abbey wasn’t something he could ask for, particularly when they were in such proximity.

  He’d had all she was able to give. It was unfair to ask for more.

  They ate quickly to make up for the time they’d spent together in the forest. He wished it weren’t necessary, that they could spend the entire day abed, learning and truly enjoying each other.

  It was all ending far too soon. Paisley Abbey was in the next village they would pass through. Though she continued to offer him the cold, bitter tea from a wineskin and prod about at his back, he did not require her ministration as he had when she’d first thrown her dagger at him.

  Rather than continue to Dumbarton with him, she could remain at the abbey. Indeed, it would be safer for her than being where the English planned to attack.

  Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to suggest it as they packed up their small camp and once more mounted their steeds to continue their journey.

  The day promised to be a fine one, with flecks of golden sunlight streaming through the leaves of the tall trees and dotting the ground. If the weather did not turn, there would be time to leave her at Paisley Abbey, and still make it to Dumbarton by nightfall.

  Such news should have pleased him. His errand would be accomplished. He would no longer have to play the part of messenger and could once more assume the role of warrior.

  But that would mean he would never see Clara again. The thought struck him like a physical blow.

  After wondering about her for so long, after finding out that she was better than even his most flattering musings, after what they shared with such intimate passion…no longer having her in his life was incomprehensible.

  “We’re nearing Paisley Abbey,” he ventured.

  “Are we?” She straightened somewhat in her saddle, and his stomach dropped.

  “We are.” He pointed northwest. “Another two hours that way, and we’ll arrive.”

  She pursed her lips, evidently in deep consideration, her body swaying with her horse’s gait.

  “’Tis on our way to Dumbarton.” Though Reid knew he had to offer to leave her at the abbey on his way, it settled in his chest like an anvil. “I’ve recovered well, thanks to yer efforts.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it.” Clara lowered her gaze, but it did not escape his notice that the small muscles of her neck tensed.

  “It may be dangerous in Dumbarton…” he continued.

  Why could he not just say it?

  She nodded.

  He would have to press on; inform her it would be best for her to remain at the abbey while he continued to Dumbarton. It was his job to deliver the message, not hers. And if something happened to her due to his selfish inability to leave her, he would never forgive himself.

  It was then he finally found the words that needed to be spoken. “Mayhap, it would be best for ye to go to the convent today.”

  “To begin my aspirancy?” Her gaze snapped up at him. “Already?”

  Aspirancy was a length of time the nuns allowed a woman to live with them to determine if they would accept her in their abbey. It was the first step of many for Clara officially taking her vows.

  A band of tension pulled taut within his chest. “Ye would have been there already had ye no’ thrown a dagger at me.” He smiled at her, but she didn’t return the gesture. In truth, he didn’t much feel like smiling either.

  Silence fell over them once more. This time, it was heavy with unspoken words, thickening the air between them.

  An hour passed, maybe more. Enough time for Reid to anticipate their impending arrival. The tension in his chest stretched past its limit and snapped.

  “What if ye dinna join the convent?” he asked abruptly.

  Clara’s focus slid to him, and her brow furrowed. “If I didn’t join the nuns at Paisley Abbey, what would I do? Where would I go?”

  “Ye could travel with me.” Even as he suggested it, he knew it to be a bad idea. It would put her in too much danger.

  Hurt radiated from her blue eyes before she could turn them from him. “Ye’ve previously stated that ye have no intention to take a wife.” Her brow furrowed. “Reid, I…what ye ask of me…I cannot…”

  He winced. She thought he had just requested that she become his leman.

  And hadn’t he?

  This woman who had saved him from certain death, who had meant to give her life to God, who had been intimate with him that one time for the experience of it. He held her in the highest esteem and yet just caused offense with his inept wording.

  “Nay,” he said. “I dinna mean…”

  But he had meant that, hadn’t he? That she would become his lover, his leman. He had made it clear he did not want a wife.

  There was no getting around what he had unintentionally offered.

  He gritted his teeth. “Do ye want to join the convent? Ye said ye were doing it for yer family, but what of yerself? What do ye want?”

  The last time he had posed that question, she had responded that she wanted him.

  She remained quiet, her gaze averted, as though she was unwilling to confide in him what she truly wanted.

  “Come, Clara, be honest with yerself.” He shifted his horse closer to hers. “Do ye truly wish to become a nun at Paisley Abbey?”

  She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears.

  A sudden urge to protect her, even from the weight of her emotional distress, welled up in him. How he longed to hold her in his arms
and comfort her as he had after she had given in to her screams of anger.

  “I want a family,” Clara said at last. “I want a husband to love me and a home to make our own. I want children. Sweet babies to snuggle and watch grow.”

  A burning ache lodged itself in Reid’s chest. He swallowed, but the feeling did not abate.

  He longed for Clara to remain in his life, but he couldn’t give her what she most desired. Not while there were still Englishmen in Scotland. Not when a home could be so easily burned and the family within slain.

  Not when he still had not taken his revenge on Lord Rottry.

  Any protest he had to prevent her from going to Paisley Abbey died on his tongue. He had no right to ask her to remain with him. Not when he could not give her what she wanted.

  At least at the convent, she would remain safe. That knowledge would have to be enough for Reid, no matter how damn bad he still wanted her.

  10

  Mayhap being intimate with Reid had been a poor decision. Clara had made the choice with lust burning in her veins and the knowledge that she would be cloistered behind sacred walls for the rest of her life, that she would never again have the chance to taste passion.

  What she had not considered, however, was the starkness of their situation in the aftermath. Nor had she thought it possible that he might suggest she become his leman. The idea did not sit well with him either, as evidenced by how his jaw had clenched once he realized what he’d said.

  They wanted two different things, futures that opposed what the other sought. She knew that when she’d lain with him. He could never be the man to fulfill her dreams.

  Just as she knew now, her course was most advantageous with its direction set for Paisley Abbey.

  She shook her head sadly at Reid in response to his request that they travel together. Theirs was a path best wandered for this final day, one that would end upon their arrival at the abbey. Reid would go one way to live his life, and Clara would go another to devote herself to helping others. It was how it must be.

  “Clara…” Reid watched her, his hazel eyes filled with regret.