Highlander's Captive (Highlander Trilogy)

by Donna Fletcher

  Torr stood and walked over to her, turning her chair around, with her still in it, and hunched down in front of her. “Marry me, Princess, for I feel the same about you.”

  While her eyes turned wide with delight, her words were more cautious. “What if we are wrong? What if it is not love?”

  “I do not want to live without you. I would miss your stubborn nature too much,” he said with a chuckle.

  She gave him playful punch in the shoulder. “I am not stubborn.”

  “It is your choice. Marry me. I promise you that I will see that we have a good life together.”

  “This is foolish,” she said, though did not want to believe that. She wanted to listen to her body that tingled all over, her heart that beat wildly, and her stomach that fluttered with delight.

  “Then we will be foolish together.” He kissed her quick. “If I linger kissing you, then we will end up in that bed together, and I will make you my wife this night.”

  Did she dare let him?

  “Again, the choice is yours, but know I would be proud to call you, wife.”

  It was so tempting to simply fall into his arms and surrender to love, though her once foolish actions had her not only hesitating, but recalling aloud something similar to what Torr had once said to her in regards to Owen. “If you truly love me, you will wait and speak with my brother and arrange a proper marriage.”

  He smiled. “My own words return to haunt me.”

  She placed a gentle hand to his cheek. “They are wise words, and as much as I want—and I do want—to have you make me your wife this night, I also want it to be right between us. I want to know for sure that you love me.”

  “As I said, Princess, your choice, but know this—you are mine and always will be.” His hand went to the back of her head and eased it forward as he brought his lips to meet hers.

  If his words had not convinced her, his kiss did. And it did not take long before she had to force herself to break away and gently shove at his chest, needing distance from him.

  Her teeth nibbled at her lower lip to try and stop the deliciously spine-tingling throb he had left upon her lips. She closed her eyes against it and the sinful, but oh so lovely, sensations that ran through her. If she was not careful, she would find herself dragging him to the bed and—she shook her head. She had made the mistake of thinking herself in love with Owen. And now here she was thinking herself in love again. She could not be foolish again. This time she must be sure.

  She grabbed her dress off her lap and pressed it tightly against her chest, and stood. “I need to put my dress on.”

  Torr did not say anything. He did not have to. Passion smoldered in his eyes, and he quickly turned his back to her. “You will save that dress, for one night I will rip it off you again.”

  She not only shivered, she grew wet at the thought. And God forgive her, she looked forward to that time.

  Wintra hurried out of her shift and into her dress that was not completely finished being repaired, but would have to do. She had managed to stitch closed part of the rip from top to mid-thigh. Her shift would cover the rest.

  “You can turn now,” she said when she finished.

  Torr turned slowly, his blue eyes heavily burdened. “I want you to remember one thing. No matter what happens I love you and nothing will change that.”

  “How do you know for sure that you love me?”

  He laughed. “Only you would ask for proof.”

  “We barely know each other. How could love have hit us so fast?” She did not truly want to question it, yet she could not help but question it. Could she truly believe that love could strike as fast as lightening? It seemed so unlikely, and yet here she was in love, or so she believed, and did she dare believe?

  Lord, she was confused, but wasn’t that what love did—confuse?

  “I have no answer for you. I cannot explain it. I do not understand it myself, and I do not want to. I simply want to enjoy it, revel in it, and know—not how or why—it is real.”

  He accepted how he felt without reservation. Wasn’t that love? Shouldn’t she accept how she felt and not question it or him, but rather enjoy the love she had found, or rather the love that had found her?

  “I want to believe that, I truly do, but I seriously misjudged Owen, so how then can I be sure that I am not misjudging—”

  He interrupted her, stepping closer, and his arm went around her waist as he said, “I am not Owen promising you sweet nothings. I am a man who, to his great surprise, has fallen in love with you.”

  He loved her, but was stunned over the revelation, which had her asking, “Why surprised?”

  “I was on a mission for your brother, not on a mission to find love,” he said, shaking his head as if in disbelief.

  “So you are as baffled about this as I am?”

  “Baffled? I suppose that fits well with love, since love, at least from what I have observed, can certainly confuse.” Torr pressed a firm finger to her lips before she could respond. “The only thing I want to hear from you right now is yes or no to my proposal that we wed. The rest we will sort out as we go.”

  Her lovely eyes held a hundred questions, and she appeared to struggle for a response.

  “Yes, or no,” he warned, “or I will kiss you senseless, and it will be you who drags me to that bed and demand I make love to you.”

  Her eyes rounded wide and a blush tinted her cheeks.

  He leaned his head down and whispered in her ear, “Your whole body will blush when I make love to you.”

  She squeezed her eyes tight against the hungry tingles that ravaged her body. They nipped and feasted ravenously at her most intimate places. Even though she would have preferred to simply let the tingles devour her into surrendering, she had to do this right. She had to make amends for her debacle with Owen. And if it was truly love, then she and Torr could wait, for love would not disappear. It would only grow stronger.

  Reluctantly, but firmly, Wintra stepped away from Torr. And just as reluctantly, he let her go.

  “I want to say yes, my heart tells me to say yes—” She shook her head. “So I do not know why I hesitate in giving you an answer.”

  “I will wait. Answer me when you are ready.”

  “What if—”

  “No what if—a simple answer is all that is needed. Now it is best we sleep so that we will be well rested to leave at sunrise.”

  Wintra agreed with a nod and walked over to the bed. It was better she gave it thought, although she would no doubt think it to death and probably be no closer to an answer than she was presently. After removing her boots, and leaving her garments on, she hurried beneath the blankets, turning her back to Cree. She was relieved when he climbed in and slipped his arm around her, drawing her back snugly against him. She had to admit that she was disappointed he was fully clothed. But it was better that way, less tempting.

  It did not take him long to fall asleep. Wintra could tell by his breathing, though his arm remained snug around her. She kept her eyes closed, trying to force herself to sleep, but it was useless. Her mind refused to quiet.

  She did not know what had compelled her to tell Torr that she believed she had fallen in love with him. It had been an overwhelming urge that she had not been able to fight. And while she had been thrilled to hear he felt the same, his proposal had startled and frightened her. This being in love was all too new to her, and she was not sure what to make of it.

  “Something troubles you?”

  She was surprised that Torr was awake, but his whisper was much too soft and filled with concern to startle her. However, she was curious to what had woken him. “I am fine, but what woke you?”

  “Your hand that continually squeezes my arm.”

  Wintra pulled her hand away, realizing she had been doing just that.

  “What troubling thoughts keep you awake?” He took hold of her hand and placed it back on his arm, his hand resting over hers and holding it there.

  How was it t
hat he could tell when something disturbed her? And how did he find such patience with her never-ending musings? And why did his touch feel so wonderfully enticing?

  “No one thought in particular, but rather many that refuse to leave me alone.”

  “Then tell me all your thoughts so that your mind will finally empty and you can sleep,” he said, settling more comfortably around her, as if prepared to spend the entire night listening to her.

  The warmth of his body, the weight of his strength, and the thought that he would listen to her endless ramblings made her think that he had to be in love with her, for no man would have such patience. And for some reason that soothed her and her thoughts seemed to fade as her eyes drifted shut.

  Torr lay there keeping Wintra close as she slept. This task had turned out far different than he had expected, though he had to admit that it had turned in his favor. Never had he expected to fall in love with Wintra and that he did, still startled him. He could understand her misgivings about being in love after what she had been through with Owen. What he could not understand was that he himself had no such uncertainties. He knew he loved this woman sleeping peacefully in his arms, and there would be no changing that no matter what happened.

  He knew there would be hurdles when he returned her home, but they would overcome them. He would see that they did. What concerned him the most was Owen. He knew well of the man and he was a devious one, not to be believed or trusted. He did not do anything out of the goodness of his heart. He did things to fatten his own coffers, and he did not care who he hurt along the way.

  Wintra moaned and turned around in Torr’s arms to settle snug against him once again and rub her face against his chest, sighing contentedly and resting her head there.

  Torr wrapped his arms around her, yawned, and placed his cheek on the top of her head. He had been happy to learn that Wintra did not think she could sleep without him by her side, for he knew for sure that he wanted her in his arms, in his bed, every night.

  Chapter Twelve

  Wintra could not remember how many days they had been traveling. She thought it had been five, though it could be six. And how Torr knew where he was going she would never know. The snow made everything look the same to her. Thank heaven it hadn’t snowed anymore, a few flurries, but nothing more. Her legs ached beyond belief from the constant trudging in the snow. Some areas were not bad while others Torr had to make a path using the strength of his legs so that she could get through to follow him.

  Food had been anything but plentiful and it had not been for lack of trying. Last night, or was it the night before—she could not remember—she had fallen asleep before the small fish Torr had managed to catch had finished cooking. He had woken her and made her eat. Not that he had to force her, she had been starving. And she was cold, so very cold that she did not think that she would ever get warm again.

  She had not, however, complained about anything to Torr. She had been the one who had wanted to go home, and he had obliged her.

  She had been so busy in her thoughts that she did not notice that he had stopped and walked right into his back. He turned, his hand taking hold of her arm and his finger tapping at his mouth, cautioning silence.

  She froze, an easy task since she was so cold, and stared at him.

  His eyes darted about, and then his hand went to the hilt of his dagger at his waist.

  Her heart began to beat rapidly. Had he heard something that had alarmed him? She got her answer when he shoved her behind him.

  Could Owen have found them? If not, who approached? Robbers or thugs who would attack innocent travelers? Many such victims had been forced to stop at the abbey for help, some having suffered serious wounds. Her mind went wild with possibilities of what they were about to face one way or another.

  She wished the ground was not covered with snow. She could have found a rock or stick, anything that would serve as a weapon. Cree had taught her to use anything she could as a weapon to defend herself. Another reason why she wished she could have remained with him, he would have taught her how to use various weapons to protect herself. She did not like feeling vulnerable, and she intended to do something about it once she was home—if she made it home.

  A single rider finally came into view, and she almost breathed a sigh of relief. Torr could easily handle one man. Then all of a sudden men on horses and some on foot poured out of the woods, and her heart sank.

  “It is about time you found us,” Torr said.

  Wintra almost collapsed with relief.

  “You hid your trail well.”

  Wintra stepped around Torr, and took his hand as she stared at Sloan.

  “You are well, Wintra?” Sloan asked.

  She did not know Sloan well. He had come to the abbey with Cree on only two occasions and they had barely exchanged a few words. “I am well,” she confirmed with a nod, “though hungry and cold.”

  “We are setting up camp not far from here. Come and I will see that you get warm and have food.” He went to dismount, but Torr’s sharp words stopped him.

  “I will see to her care.”

  Sloan looked from one to the other, nodded, and then signaled to one of the warriors who after being gone for only a few moments returned with Torr’s horse.

  Torr took the reins, rubbed the mare’s face, pressed his face to hers, and then whispered something to her.

  Wintra watched how his hands moved over the mare, as if reassuring her and welcoming her back and all she could think was that she missed that touch of his. As shocking as it had been when he had touched her to get her warm, it had also felt incredibly wonderful.

  Love.

  A reminder of why she felt as she did about Torr?

  A loving man. A good man. A trustworthy man.

  “You’re exhausted and hungry. You need food and sleep, and I am going to see that you get both,” Torr said and scooped her up and planted her on the horse. He mounted behind her, and she collapsed back against him, turning into the crook of his arm and laid her head upon his chest. She loved being in his arms, the only problem being that when she was those sinful tingles would attack her and sometimes viciously. Then all she could think of was the both of them naked and touching each other. She definitely was going to hell.

  The campsite was a short ride away and as soon as they dismounted a young lad hurried to see to Torr’s horse. Torr in turn saw to Wintra. He took her to one of the three fires and saw that she was seated comfortably on a blanket, then wrapped another blanket around her, tucking it in a fold at her breasts.

  She sighed when his fingers brushed her already hard nipples.

  Torr leaned down to whisper, “Be careful, your heated passion shows clearly in your eyes and if we were alone I would be hard-pressed not to ignite it some more.” He quickly handed her a hot brew, not trusting himself not to kiss her, which was what he ached to do, regardless that Sloan and Cree’s warriors where present.

  He reached around him and snatched up the bread and cheese he had brought for her and placed it in her lap. “Meat will be brought to you as soon as it is ready. I must go and speak with Sloan.”

  “And you?” she asked just as concerned for him as he was for her and while she would have preferred him to stay with her, it was wiser that he left. She needed this relentless ache for him to ease, and it would not have a chance of doing that with him so close to her.

  “I will join you soon as I finish with Sloan.”

  “You intend to speak with him about Owen?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “You will tell me if there is anything I should know?”

  “I will,” he said agreeably.

  Wintra watched him walk off and wondered if a time would ever come that she would not be racked with tingles when she gazed upon him or he touched her. So why not wed him and be done with it?

  Why not? The question echoed in her head and it was one time she wished that she did not think so much. She wished that she would simply accept her lov
e for Torr and accept his marriage proposal without reservation. But that small inkling of doubt continued to nag at her. What if she had misjudged Torr as badly as she had Owen?

  She tried to convince herself that there was no rush in making a decision that she would be home soon and...

  She sighed, cupping the tankard tighter in her hands. What if Cree did not approve of Torr? What then?

  If she was not so hungry, she would have ignored the food, but her empty stomach would not allow that, and it was a good thing. It got her mind off her musings and she finally ate with more gusto than she felt. She also enjoyed the meat a young lad had brought her. Two more tankards of the warm brew and her insides had warmed considerably. Her feet however were still chilled, and she decided she would take her boots off and let the fire dry them while warming her toes. First, however, she needed to seek the privacy of the woods.

  She managed to make it to her feet without a groan, though one rumbled in her chest. She did not want to show how much she ached. She was Cree’s sister and would show no weakness in front of his men. Cree never showed weakness or had she ever seen him cry, not even when their mum had died or when he had dug her grave and laid her to rest, though he had held her when she cried.

  Wintra chased the sad memories away as she walked through the camp to the woods. One of the warriors, guarding the outer edges of camp, stepped in front of her, stopping her.

  “I require a moment of privacy,” she said.

  He nodded and signaled with his hand and in seconds two warriors flanked her.

  She was about to argue, but recalling the dead man and his lifeless eyes the last time she had ventured into the woods for the same reason, she decided that she did not mind the two warriors following along. She did not have to ask them to turn away when she stopped. They did so of their own accord, of which she was grateful. Though just to make sure, she retreated a few more steps into the darkness.