“We need to go,” Arran said, the words barely leaving his mouth when an arrow whizzed by his head. He looked to Quiver ready to roar with rage at him when he saw him on his feet another arrow set to launch and his eyes not on Arran but beyond him.
He threw himself over his wife and turned as he did to see one man on the ground an arrow sticking out of his chest and another man falling, an arrow in his throat. Arran hurried to his feet, ordering his wife to stay down as he drew his sword. He saw that Quiver had already had another arrow set in his bow as he approached. The man definitely was a skilled archer.
“The dog alerted me,” Quiver explained and looked to Princess, sitting in front of Purity.
“You did well. You may be an asset to the clan after all,” Arran said.
“I would like to have a clan to belong to—a home,” Quiver said, not a tremble in him, as he cast a glance around. “Do you think there may be more?”
“Princess would alert us if there were more lingering about,” Arran said.
Purity hurried to her feet, calling out, “King! King!”
Princess joined in with a bark.
Arran heard his wife’s worry and tried to ease it. “He probably went off to find some food.”
Purity was about to call out to him again when he suddenly appeared at the opposite edge of the woods from where the two men had appeared, licking his mouth as if he’d just finished a delicious meal.
Arran was pleased to see the relief on his wife’s face and felt it himself. King was family and it was his duty to keep them all safe.
“We leave now,” he ordered, grabbing hold of Hope’s reins.
Quiver was quick to take the lead, Princess joining him and King jumping up to settle on her back.
“Don’t kiss me again until we get home,” Arran demanded as Purity moved to walk beside him. He was surprised, or was it disappointment, when she didn’t protest.
“I understand,” she said. Their kisses were distracting to them both, leaving them vulnerable. She would do as he said for their own safety. She was just glad that he didn’t order her never to kiss him again. She had found kissing him more than enjoyable and wondered if he felt the same. She would ask but now was not the time.
They continued on in silence, Arran never far from Purity’s side, and his eyes constantly scanning the area. Arran allowed for only brief repasts and while she and Quiver sat, Arran didn’t. He paced and watched and ordered them to their feet after only a few moments.
By the time they stopped for the night, Purity was exhausted. She dropped to the ground ready to sleep, too tired to pay heed to her grumbling stomach. She heard Arran talking with Quiver but barely made out their conversation, her eyes growing heavy.
When she woke it was dark, a fire crackling nearby and the heat drifting off it and warming her along with one of Arran’s furs that was draped across her. A delicious scent tickled her nose and her stomach grumbled, reminding her of her hunger. She sat up to find Quiver sitting nearby eating meat from the animal on the spit that looked to have been cooking for some time.
“He went to scout the area,” Quiver offered when he saw her look around anxiously. He ordered me, Princess, and King and even his horse, Hope to guard you. He just left and won’t be long he said. Let me get you some meat. You must be hungry.”
Purity smiled. “You heard my stomach.”
“Mine was just as loud,” Quiver said and handed her a good chunk of meat. “Be careful it’s hot but delicious.”
Purity tossed it gently back and forth in her hands so it wouldn’t burn her and to cool it some. It wasn’t until she had eaten a few pieces that she asked, “Why did you refer to Arran as Satan?”
Quiver shook his head. “It was wrong of me. I shouldn’t have done it.”
“I’m not accusing you of anything, Quiver. I’m curious, that’s all. I’ve known Arran a long time and he’s a good man.”
“At one time he was from what others say.”
“Is it the time spent with the mercenaries that people believe changed him so much that they speak badly about him?” she asked, the thought of what he had been forced to endure to survive, leaving her heart aching for him.
Quiver shrugged.
It was obvious Quiver was hesitant to say, but Purity was too concerned for her husband to let it pass. “Please, Quiver, share what you know. It will help me to better understand and help my husband.”
“I knew you were a good soul as soon as I laid eyes on you. I shouldn’t have been a coward. I should have helped you.”
“Help me now,” she urged.
Quiver lowered his voice. “I don’t know if all I heard is true, but I do know one thing—Brynjar the Fierce is no myth. He’s real. I know a man who had been captured by the Northman and escaped. And all he does is drink to forget.”
“Brynjar?” she asked, not understanding what the man had to do with her husband.
“There’s a story that says Arran of the Clan MacKinnon was captured by Brynjar and what he suffered at the man’s hands robbed him of his heart and soul. After his escape, it’s said he was a different man. He entered battle without fear, almost as if he didn’t care if he died, and he was often the last man standing on the battlefield, dead bodies strewn around him, blood running like a river down his sword and blood dripping off him. One person who witnessed it shivered at the telling, saying that only Satan could do what Arran did and leave the carnage behind him without a bit of remorse for the fallen on either side.”
“A warrior who shows remorse is no warrior.”
Purity and Quiver jumped at Arran’s remark, neither having heard him approach.
“I leave you to guard my wife and you get lost in the telling of a tale?” Arran accused.
Purity, feeling it her fault, was quick to defend Quiver. “I asked him to explain and besides, Princess would have alerted us if anyone approached.”
“She did,” Arran said. “She got up and waited to greet me as I stepped out of the woods and neither of you noticed.” His hand shot up when Quiver went to speak. “Don’t bother apologizing or calling yourself a fool. I already know that to be true and I’m tired of your useless apologies. Fail me once more and you’re done. I’ll take the first guard duty tonight.”
“Aye, sir,” Quiver said and hurried to settle himself on the ground to sleep.
Arran leaned down in front of the spit and stripped some meat off the carcass, then sat not far from the fire, but a distance from Purity.
“What did I tell you?” he asked between bites.
“I could ask the same of you,” she said.
“Do not make our marriage, difficult, wife,” he warned.
“Again, I could ask the same of you.” She suffered a twinge of regret seeing a weariness in his eyes she had never seen before.
“Leave the past in the past.”
It wasn’t a command. It was more like he was reminding himself of what he needed to do and it troubled her that he should suffer such horrible memories alone. She offered him the only thing she thought might help.
“I love you, Arran, and I am here for you whenever you need me.”
“Don’t love me,” he snapped.
“Too late, I already do and there isn’t anything that is going to change that.”
“I can’t lo—”
“I know, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you and I see no reason to hide my love for you or deny it. It’s there tucked safely in my heart and there it will stay. So if you ever should need it, you know it’s there.”
“Go to sleep, wife, tomorrow we reach home,” he ordered.
“We’re already home, husband. Wherever you, me, Princess, King, and Hope are, that’s home,” she reminded.
Later, when Arran woke Quiver to take guard, Quiver said to him, “You’re a lucky man, sir, to have a wife who loves you so much that as long as she’s with you, she’s home.”
Quiver may think him lucky, but he thought it more a curse, not o
n him, but Purity. Her kind heart deserved better than him and here she was cursed to spend the rest of her life with a man who had nothing left to give, whose smile that once came so easily was lost to him forever, whose joy of family was no more, who only thought of one thing and one thing alone—survival against evil. And he had learned the only way to survive evil was to become evil himself.
He turned to find a spot to sleep where he’d be more alert to sounds, not fully trusting Quiver to guard well, when he spotted his wife shiver. He went to her and gently touched her hand. It was cold, she was cold, the night having taken on a substantial chill, and he stretched out beside her to wrap himself around her.
He tucked her close against him to share his warmth and she turned to snuggle even closer, burying her face between his furs until he felt her cold nose against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her once she settled and held her tight so his warmth could seep through her. She felt good in his arms and somehow it felt right her being there, but then she was his wife. She belonged there in his arms. But it wasn’t about belonging to her. It was about…
I love you.
Her words had repeated in his head while he stood guard and he had had to fight not to let them distract him. How was it that she loved him? He had thought of her nothing more than a friend, but if he was truthful, she’d been right when she had told him he’d barely acknowledged her. How could she be so sure of her love for him? Especially now after all these years when he had changed so much?
“I can’t love you,” he whispered.
Can’t or won’t? Came his own silent response.
It was a question that followed him into sleep.
Chapter 10
The closer they got to home, the more anxious Purity grew. She didn’t have many happy memories of home or of her father. He’d been far from a loving father. She had wondered why he never married again after her mum had died. He could have had more children and secured the future of the Clan Macara. Maybe it was because he favored Bayne so much, his firstborn and only son. To her father, Bayne had been the future of the clan, of the Macara name living on.
“You are not alone. I am here with you, and as your husband it is my say that matters not your father’s,” Arran said.
“I must wear my worry heavily for you to know what I think and how I feel,” she said, not surprised she hadn’t been able to hide the obvious.
“I understand it.”
That he said no more said much. He would understand, though in the opposite way. He’d been free of restraints, captured, and finally set free. She hadn’t been free. She’d been made to follow her father or brother’s dictates, found freedom, and now she was under the dictates of her husband. And she wasn’t foolish enough to think her father wouldn’t continue to dictate to her.
“I miss my home in the woods already,” she said, her heart aching for the tranquility she had found there.
“You were no longer safe there. We will make a good home together,” Arran said.
Once again it sounded like a chore he would see done, and she supposed it was better she returned home his wife, then leave herself vulnerable to her father’s whim. Still, returning home was proving more difficult than she had thought it would be.
His hand closed around her deformed one and instinct almost had her pulling it away. She gave a quick glance at their joined hands and spoke without thinking. “No one ever held my hand let alone my deformed one.”
“I enjoy feeling your hand in mine—either hand,” he said, his eyes looking to hers for a moment before turning away to keep focused on the surrounding area.
A memory had her saying, “That reminds me of remarks I used to hear you say to women. Only you would say each with a playful smile and follow with a kiss.”
“That was another time, another me.” He turned to her. “I say what I mean, then and now. That hasn’t changed.”
“You always did speak your mind.”
“And you rarely spoke at all,” he said before turning his glance away from her.
She thought back to the times she’d been reprimanded for sharing a thought or opinion. “I learned at an early age that neither my thoughts or opinions were valued or encouraged.”
“So you sought solace in silence.”
“When your words are continually attacked, silence becomes a shield,” she said.
“And a form of surrender.”
“For a young lass it wasn’t surrender—it was survival.”
“Then you are to be praised for your courage,” Arran said with a quick glance at her and a squeeze of her hand.
She chuckled. “Not many would agree with you, particularly my father.”
“Then your father doesn’t know his daughter at all. It took courage to survive as you did in the woods, it took courage to help my da, and it took far more courage to marry me.”
“It takes no courage to marry someone you love,” she said and hurried to change the subject before he could argue. “I hope you don’t mind living at Macara keep. It can be a dismal place.”
“Then we’ll change it,” he said as if the solution was an easy one.
“My father will not approve of any changes,” Purity said, a touch of sadness in her words.
“Then we won’t live in the keep. We’ll make one of the cottages our home. I will not have you unhappy.”
She seized the moment. “You know what would make me happy?”
“What?”
“To see you smile again,” she said with an encouraging smile of her own.
“If I could, I would,” he said without hesitation, then said no more.
They continued walking, only this time in silence. Purity thought on what Quiver had told her about the evil man, Brynjar, and that coupled with what Arran had told her about what he’d done to stop a fellow prisoner’s suffering while he’d been held captive made her think that until healed from that horrible ordeal, her husband’s smile might not return.
They stopped at the edge of the woods hours later, well after mid-day. Beyond the MacKinnon keep loomed large.
“Are you ready for this?” Arran asked her, still holding her hand.
She got the feeling the question was more for him than her, so she answered for both of them. “We’re ready.”
This time Quiver followed behind them, next to Hope, though Princess and King walked beside Purity, King jumping off Princess’s back to strut in front of them as they emerged from the woods.
“PURITY!”
Purity startled at her name being screeched and when she saw it was Oria, she left her husband’s side in a rush, tears gathering in her eyes and falling just as she and Oria collided in a hug.
“I’ve been so worried about you and praying that you would return soon,” Oria said, tears streaming down her cheeks as she held tight to Purity.
“It is so good to see you again. I have missed you and…” Purity didn’t finish, she didn’t have to, Oria understood and missed Raven as much as she did.
They parted and Oria looked down at the cat weaving his way around her ankles. “King certainly has grown, and he remembers me.
“I named him well,” Purity said with a laugh. “He’s a little tyrant.”
“And who is this beautiful creature?” Oria asked, reaching out to rub the large dog who had come to stand beside Purity.
“This is Princess and she and King are the best of friends.” The horse nudged her from behind and she turned to stroke her face. “And this is Hope.”
“The special way you have with animals always astonished me.”
Oria’s fine features always amazed Purity, but even more so now. Her heart-shaped face glowed not only with beauty but happiness as well and her honey-blonde hair fell unrestrained over her shoulders. “You look wonderful and happy,” —Purity pointed to the bump in her stomach— “and I see part of the reason.”
Oria’s hand went to the round bump and she smiled. “When spring blooms so will I.”
“I
am happy that you and Royden are finally together as you should be,” Purity said, remembering how much the two had been in love since they’d been young.
“And who have you brought with yo—” Oria’s eyes went wide as the man approached and she recognized him. “Good, God, Arran! You’ve finally made it home.” She turned searching the area for her husband and spotting him in the distance, she screamed for him. “ROYDEN!”
He came running, a look of pure fear on his face until he spotted Arran. He ran right to his brother and he stopped in front of him for a moment, then the two men came together in a hug, their eyes shutting tight against tears while relief flooded their faces, and turned Oria and Purity teary-eyed again.
They slapped each other on the back before parting.
“It’s good to finally have you home again,” Royden said.
“It is good to be home, though I won’t be staying long,” Arran said.
“What do you mean you won’t be staying long?” Oria asked, upset. “You just got here. You can’t leave.” She looked to Royden. “You can’t let him leave.
Royden went to his wife and kissed her cheek. “Arran is a grown man. He will do as he pleases.” He turned to his brother. “Though, I do wish you would stay.”
“I won’t be going far,” Arran said, the concern on both their faces stirring something in the pit of his stomach. He stepped next to Purity and took her hand. “Purity and I are wed and I will be making my home with her at Clan Macara.”
Oria broke out in a huge grin and hugged Purity again. “That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for the both of you.”
“So you heard and agreed to Galvin’s request to wed his daughter?” Royden asked.
Arran knew what was on his wife’s mind as soon as she turned and looked at him and he settled her question before she could ask it. “I know nothing about that. Purity and I wed so I could keep her safe. There is a bounty on her to be returned to the Clan Macara and those who attempted to see it done didn’t have Purity’s safety in mind.”
Royden shook his head, stunned. “Galvin put a bounty on his daughter?”
Entrusted to a Highlander Page 9
