Entrusted to a Highlander: Highland Promise Trilogy Book Two

by Donna Fletcher

  Clive smiled and lowered his voice. “He’s no longer a merchant, but you knew that and were testing me to see if I truly know George.”

  “He’s made no mention of you,” she said cautiously and caught a small amount of the spice on the tip of her finger to place on her tongue. It had a pungent but pleasing taste.

  “And for a good reason that you don’t need to know. I, for one, didn’t see the point in me coming here but she insisted on it and insisted you could be trusted with the message—as long as you were wed.”

  Purity felt a catch to her heart.

  Raven.

  She dared not say her name aloud. Raven had kept herself safe these last five years, no one able to find her, and Purity wouldn’t be responsible for bringing her any harm.

  “You can ensure her that I’m good and wed. My husband, Arran, and I have exchanged vows twice, once with Brother Noble and again with Abbott Thomas. And I can tell you she will be pleased to learn who I wed.”

  “I will make sure that she knows,” Clive said with a brief nod. “She asks that you maintain your silence and do your best to keep her brothers from searching for her. She knows they are intent on finding her, especially Arran. He was relentless after his release. His interference does not help her. A plan is in motion and will soon reveal itself.”

  “Arran is far too busy with problems we are having here right now. Presently, he has no time to search for her. How long before this plan is revealed?”

  “The start of winter will finally see its fruition.”

  “May I ask if this plan has anything to do with a buildup of Wolf’s warriors at Learmonth?” she asked.

  “The buildup is not meant to harm any of the clans, our king and Wolf’s king has seen to that. Wolf is claiming Learmonth as his home,” Clive said.

  “That explains the arrival of his warriors. They’re settling in before his arrival and securing his safety,” Purity said, grateful that puzzle was solved.

  “I believe Oria and Royden were already aware that Learmonth now belonged to Wolf,” Clive informed her.

  “I’m sure they are aware, though I don’t know if they expected him to take residence there this soon, if at all. It is difficult knowing our enemy will be our neighbor. He has brought much harm to our clans, our families, and that is not easy to forgive.”

  “Perhaps not easy, but necessary, if you want to have peace,” Clive urged.

  Purity got the distinct feeling that he was trying to tell her something, but she didn’t know what.

  “Will you come this way again?” she asked.

  He smiled. “You’ll see me again.”

  That wasn’t what she had asked him and this time she thought she understood. She would see him again but she didn’t think it would be as a merchant. If not? Then who was he?

  “Let me see your cloth, and I’ll also have my cook see if she favors any of the other spices,” Purity said with the authority of the mistress of the keep.

  Clive bobbed his head. “As you say, mistress.”

  Purity looked over the cloth while Iona examined the small sacks of spices. After haggling over cost, spices and cloth were purchased.

  “I’ll see you again,” Purity said, cradling the roll of cloth as Clive climbed up on the cart and took the reins of his horse in hand.

  “That you will, mistress. That you will.”

  Purity watched him ride off. She thought he might stay for the night but he was eager to reach the Clan MacKinnon before nightfall and before the rain returned.

  “Thank you, mistress. You are generous,” Iona said when Purity turned around. “I will make some fine meals with these spices.”

  “I look forward to them.”

  Iona wrinkled her nose. “I shouldn’t say this about a dead man but I didn’t like some of the herbs Orvin used. They had an odor when they should have had a pleasant scent.”

  “You are a fine cook, Iona, and I’m grateful to have you.”

  The woman’s cheeks turned rosy. “Thank you, mistress.”

  Purity smiled and lowered her voice curious to ask, “Now tell me if you favor Quiver, for it’s obvious he favors you.”

  Iona’s cheeks turned crimson and she grew flustered.

  “I have my answer,” Purity announced with a chuckle. “And I for one believe you are perfect for each other.”

  “Who’s perfect for each other?” Arran asked, stepping outside.

  Purity saw Iona tense as if not sure what the chieftain would do if he found out, and she responded quickly, “You and I, of course. Absolutely perfect for each other. Don’t you agree, Iona?”

  “Aye, mistress, perfect,” Iona said with relief and took the cloth from her mistress before hurrying off to the kitchen.

  Arran reached out and captured his wife’s hand to tug her to him, his arms circling her waist once she was close. “I must speak with Freen and then I am done for the day,” he buried his face in her neck and teased it with kisses and nibbles.

  “I know what you do, husband,” Purity said, her passion sparking with only the slightest encouragement from him.

  He laughed softly. “I but kiss my wife.”

  “Do not play the fool with me. You know what you do,” she accused, his sharp nip along her neck sending an ache between her legs that would have her begging him for more if she wasn’t careful. “You tease and torment.”

  “I ready you for the pleasure we will share—later,” he argued, his gentle laughter proving her point.

  “You torment me,” she protested.

  He captured her chin in a strong grip. “And I torment myself as well. I ache for you, wife, and it is good to know you ache for me just as much.” He kissed her, her mouth opening to him, inviting him, and welcoming him.

  The hungry kiss fired her passion even more and she had to stop herself from grabbing his arm and dragging him into the keep. And she knew, she felt, deep within her that he wouldn’t stop her.

  She tore her mouth away. “I worry you will not have the stamina to make up for your husbandly duties that you have sorely neglected.”

  His eyes spread wide along with his smile. “Are you challenging me?”

  “A simple warning that I expect my husband to perform his duties with vigor tonight,” she said with a glint of challenge in her eyes.

  “See that supper is brought to our bedchamber, since we will not be leaving it tonight,” he said and kissed her before stepping quickly away from her. “I won’t be long.”

  Good Lord, she hoped not, though she didn’t voice her need. She did, however, respond and what she said surprised her as well as her husband. “If you are too long, I may just start without you.”

  “Damn, Purity, now that image will linger in my head,” Arran said, shaking his head, trying to chase it away.

  “Good, then you won’t take long,” she said and gave him a wicked grin as she moved to step past them.

  “Sir.”

  She cringed along with her husband hearing Freen’s voice. Lately he never brought good news.

  “What is it now?” Arran snapped, annoyed.

  Freen delivered the news with haste. “Brynjar is outside the village, Wolf’s warriors denying him entrance, and he demands to speak with you.”

  Chapter 25

  Arran would have preferred his wife not to be present when he spoke with Brynjar, but he was wise enough to know there would be no stopping her from being there. He had Freen escort the Northman to the keep. His warriors were made to wait outside the village, something that definitely would not set well with him. He rarely went anywhere without at least two warriors at his side.

  “Do you fear me and my warriors that much that you refuse all but me entrance to your home?” Brynjar bellowed when he entered the Great Hall.

  “Fear has nothing to do with it—evil does—and there is no trusting evil,” Arran said.

  “There is truth to your words. The only thing is you’ve failed to recognize the evil in yourself. I saw it in you a
nd I knew, given time, you could be more evil than me.”

  “Never!” Purity said, defending her husband. “Arran is a good man.”

  “When he wants to be,” Brynjar said, his eyes intent on Arran. “Don’t tell me killing didn’t come easily to you or that you cared for those you felled with your sword.” He raised his hands, holding them such that he looked to be squeezing something. “The most satisfying ones are those whose lives you take with your own hands.” He pounded his chest with his hands. “The satisfaction is exhilarating.”

  Purity moved so that her arm touched her husband’s. She needed to be close to him, to feel the strength of his taut muscles. She believed evil existed and she believed Arran when he told her that Brynjar was evil, but seeing it for herself, seeing how he delighted in another’s suffering was frightening.

  “What do you want, Brynjar?” Arran asked.

  Purity couldn’t help but glance at her husband. There was a coldness to his voice she hadn’t heard before this and his dark eyes showed not a trace of emotion nor did his face. It was almost as if a mask had slipped over him.

  “Did you foolishly think I would leave when informed of Galvin’s death?” he asked with a mocking laugh.

  “It would have been wise of you,” Arran said and Purity shivered his voice was so icy.

  “You are a fool to think you could get rid of me that easily,” Brynjar warned.

  “There is nothing left here for you. This isn’t your homeland. These aren’t your people. You leave yourself vulnerable by remaining here and it surprises me that you would do such a thing.”

  “SHE,” Brynjar shouted, pointing to Purity, “and this clan and land belong to me!”

  “Purity is not yours and never has been and that goes for this clan and land as well. Your agreement was never valid. You need to face the truth, Brynjar—you lost this battle.”

  Brynjar’s nostrils flared. “I never lose a battle.”

  “Need I remind you that you lost to Wolf?” Arran asked, though didn’t wait for a response. “Take yourself home. You’re not wanted here and you’ll find no victory here.”

  Brynjar raised his hand in a fist, shaking it. “I was promised—”

  Her husband’s sudden movement had Purity stumbling back and she was shocked to see Arran’s fist jabbing Brynjar in the chest.

  “Return home or I will see you dead,” Arran threatened.

  “You don’t frighten me,” Brynjar said, sticking his face close to Arran’s.

  “Then you’re more a fool than I thought,” Arran said and turned away from the man to return to his wife’s side. “You have few men and Wolf’s warriors grow in number nearby. Who do you think will be the victor?”

  “Wolf lost a warrior. You lost a man. Galvin lost his life. I wonder who will be next?” Brynjar questioned, his mouth twisting in a sneer.

  “Be careful it’s not you,” Arran warned.

  Brynjar’s face turned a startling red. “You’ll rue this day, Arran.”

  Arran grinned, not at all a pleasant grin. “Rue this day? I celebrate this day I claimed victory over you.”

  “This is not over,” Brynjar threatened.

  “You’re right,” Arran agreed. “It won’t be over until you’re dead.”

  Brynjar looked as if to speak but nothing left his mouth and rage had his eyes bulging as if they would pop from his head.

  “Freen, see that Brynjar and his warriors leave our land,” Arran ordered.

  “I’m going to enjoy squeezing the life out of you,” Brynjar said with an angry growl.

  “And I’m going to enjoy the look on your face as I drive my sword through you and watch you die.”

  Arran’s icy tones had Purity shivering again, believing he would do as he said. Brynjar must have believed it as well since she saw a shudder run through the man.

  Purity turned to her husband as soon as they were alone and she saw what she feared. The mask was still in place, not a hint of the old Arran could be seen. Brynjar had managed to poke, disturb, and wake the man that endless battle had born. It angered her since she had seen how his old self had been slowly returning, and she enjoyed his teasing and charming ways. She feared what it might not only do to her husband, but to what they had built between them.

  “Please don’t let him destroy what we have found,” she said, her hand latching on to his arm, afraid if she let him go she might lose him forever.

  He ignored her remark. “I have things to see to. You will give me your word that you will not venture out of the keep tonight.”

  “And you gave me your word you would not be long,” she reminded, wanting desperately to get him in bed and remind him of what they had together and all the promises to come.

  His eyes grazed hers as he turned his head to keep an eye on the door. “Your word, wife.”

  “Arran,” she said, sensing the man she loved had slipped deep somewhere inside him.

  He grabbed her by the arms. “I will hear nothing but your word spill from your mouth.”

  She wouldn’t argue with him, not when she caught a hint of the evil Brynjar must have seen in him, and it frightened her. “I will do as you say, husband.”

  Purity rubbed her arms as he walked away, not turning once to glance back at her or utter a single word. It pained her to think that after all he’d been through, after all he had escaped, after all the healing he had managed to do that a few words from one awful man could do such damage.

  She had to remind herself how long it had taken her to discover her own intelligence, to finally feel free of her father’s dictates, and to finally feel whole. Arran had been whole and his five years in capture had torn him apart. He was only beginning to put all the pieces back together. And she would see that those pieces stayed together.

  Arran swung his sword at the practice post again and again, the muscles in his arms screaming for him to stop. Two days since Brynjar’s visit and his words still reverberated in his head.

  Don’t tell me killing didn’t come easily to you or that you cared for those you felled with your sword. I knew, given time, you could be more evil than me.

  After a while killing had come easier to him. He had swung his sword without thought or reason, nor did he care who it felled. He had stepped over dead and dying bodies, their faces all the same to him and his heart cold to them.

  Rage roared to the surface and he swung his sword with a roar and the top of the post went flying to roll along the ground like that of a severed head. His nostrils flared at the sudden odor that struck him—the blood, sweat, and excrements of death. It was so thick after battle he wondered if the disgusting odor would ever leave him.

  It hadn’t. It had come back to haunt him often—until Purity.

  So much had changed since he’d been with her and yet he truly hadn’t changed. That warrior who had killed so easily and cared for nothing was still part of him and Brynjar had reminded him of that.

  He swung again at the post, paying no heed to the light rain that had begun to fall. He was too busy staring at his hands that had killed so many—evil hands—and hands that had touched his wife supposedly with love. How could he love when he hadn’t cared for anything?

  He had no right to touch Purity, to stain her with his evil. She didn’t deserve that. He lowered his sword and realized the light rain had turned heavier, the droplets splashing against his naked chest. He had removed his shirt before he had begun to practice with intentions of working up a sweat that would drench him. He had hoped if he beat the practice post with his sword enough it might chase the rage that had consumed him from when last he had spoken with Brynjar.

  It hadn’t been easy avoiding his wife these last couple of days, but he had managed. However, he knew a confrontation was soon to come. How did he explain that it was for her own good that he kept his distance from her and not taint her with his hands that had brought so much pain and death to others? She wouldn’t understand. She would think to explain it away or somehow excuse
it, and that wasn’t possible.

  “YOU’RE A COWARD, ARRAN, AND I’M ASHAMED TO HAVE YOU AS MY HUSBAND!”

  Arran turned, not believing what his wife shouted at him. He was glad the rain had driven everyone inside and no one was about to hear her. He also realized that she had to have been standing there for a while since the rain had almost soaked through her hair and garments. He wondered then how long had it been since the rain turned heavy. How long had he ignored everything around him, including hearing his wife approach?

  She marched up to him and jabbed him in the chest with her finger as she let loose her anger on him. “You’re a coward not facing me, not talking to me, avoiding me completely. We had found our way, you and me together, talking and sharing even things we may not want to hear. You have no right hiding away from me.”

  “I have every right. You are good and kind and you don’t deserve to be touched by evil. You will keep your distance from me. Now go in the keep and stay there,” he ordered harshly and turned his back on her, though his heart ached doing so.

  Purity had felt rage through the years but nothing like she felt now and she let it take hold and lashed out. She shoved him in the back with all her might and sent him stumbling.

  Arran was caught off guard and lost his balance almost falling, but quickly righted himself and kept himself on his feet. He couldn’t believe his wife had shoved him like that. She had to be more than angry with him since he had never known her to strike out like that, not ever. Strangely, he understood. Hadn’t that been what he’d done when anger consumed him beyond reason? He turned on her, raising his hand and pointing. “Go to the keep NOW!”

  “NO! I will not obey you,” she said defiantly. “Why should I obey a husband who is no husband to me? You ignore me, avoid me, and refuse to share our bed. You are a poor excuse for a husband.”

  “On that we agree, wife!” he shouted at her. “Now go to the keep!”

  She hurried closer to him and jabbed him again in the chest as she spoke. “Do you not understand when I say NO?”

  He kept tight control on his anger not wanting to unleash it on her. “I’m warning you, Purity. For your own safety, go to the keep. NOW!”