Forever Her Champion

by Suzan Tisdale

  “Wheest,” came a harsh whisper. “Do nae wake her.”

  Aiden turned to see the source of the warning. A slender man with dark hair and green eyes was staring at him. He was standing near the door, arms crossed over his chest.

  “She finally succumbed to exhaustion late last night. ’Tis the first time she has slept in days.”

  Aiden’s eyes darted about the room, looking for his sword or any weapon with which he might need to defend himself. The man laughed softly.

  “Your sword be against the wall next to you, but you will have no need of it. You are safe. My name is Jean Luc, second in command to Lachlan MacAllistair, laird and chief of clan MacAllistair, and father to the lass sleeping beside you.” He bowed low, but never took his gaze away from Aiden.

  Aiden tried to get his eyes and ears to focus more clearly, but his head felt foggy, filled with cobwebs and shattered flashes of memory.

  “You will feel better soon enough, young man. But if you wake her up, I shall run a dirk through your heart, do you understand?”

  ’Twas not nearly as menacing a threat as Aiden supposed he meant it to be.

  “Where am I?” He asked, his throat scratchy and dry.

  Jean Luc smiled before taking the chair next to the bed. “Ye are in Allistair Castle.”

  Allistair Castle. “Her father,” he scratched out. “He has accepted her?” His chest began to feel heavy, dreading the answer.

  “Yes, he has.”

  Aiden looked away, unwilling to share his pain with anyone. If Lachlan was indeed Rianna’s father, then what need did she have of him? A former assassin with no means to support her. Now she had the home she had always dreamt of.

  Jean Luc leaned in, his voice low, firm. “She loves ye. Only once has she left your side, and that was last night, and only long enough to bathe.”

  What did it matter? There was nothing he could offer her, other than his undying love. Love was not enough to stave off the pangs of hunger or keep out the harsh winter winds.

  “Lachlan will give you a home here as well. Of this, there is no doubt,” Jean Luc informed him.

  Aiden refused to look at the man. Aye, she loved him and he her. While the offer of a home was tempting, in his heart, he knew he did not belong here. If his former masters were ever to discover where he was, they would unleash a reign of terror and hell unlike any the MacAllistairs had ever seen. Nay, he could not stay here, could not put any of them at risk. Especially not Rianna.

  Jean Luc studied him for a long moment. Aiden could feel his hard glare almost boring into his skull.

  “Her father knows of your past and he cares not of it. Neither do I. We offer you the same protection we offer Valeriana.”

  Valeriana? Aiden turned his head slowly, confusion knitted in his brow.

  “Allow me to tell you a story …

  The midnight hour had come and gone before Rianna woke. She had slept so soundly and for such a great length of time that Aiden began to worry she had become ill.

  He lay on his side facing her, taking great pleasure in simply watching her sleep. Dark locks lay this way and that, her creamy skin tinged gold from the light the fire, looking like an angel sent down from the heavens. Though the healer who had visited him earlier assured him she was well, simply exhausted from her own worry over him, he still fretted over her wellbeing.

  Whilst she slept, he thought about everything Jean Luc had told him. He felt certain the man had not left out a single detail about Rianna’s birthright, her past, or his own thoughts on her future. What surprised him most, however, was the message he’d relayed on Lachlan MacAllistair’s behalf.

  So relieved was he that when she finally opened her eyes, he nearly wept.

  “So ye’re back amongst the livin’,” he asked playfully, unwilling to allow her to see the depths of his own despair or relief at seeing her bright green eyes once again.

  Rianna was not afraid to allow her own feelings to show. She shot up in the bed, her eyes wide with astonished relief. “Ye’re awake,” she said as if she were unable yet to quite believe it.

  “Aye, I am,” he said as he rolled to his back, grinning from ear to ear. Unable to contain her joy, she flung herself against his chest, her head buried in the pillow. “Och! Aiden!” she exclaimed. “I was so worried ye’d ne’er wake.”

  Pain shot from his injured side and arm. He sucked in a deep breath and groaned.

  Realizing her error, she sat up. “I’ve hurt ye,” she said, filled with guilt.

  “Do nae fash over it, lass,” he said with a wince. “’Tis naught but a scratch. And I’d be willin’ to walk through the fires of hell to feel ye against me once again.”

  Uncertain, she sat still as she carefully studied his face.

  “Please, rest with me, let me hold ye close,” he said.

  Carefully, as if he might break or fall back into a deep sleep, she settled herself in beside him. He wrapped his uninjured arm around her and held her close.

  “We have much to talk about lass,” he whispered softly against her silky hair.

  He felt her stiffen, but she moved naught a muscle.

  “Much has transpired betwixt us these past many days,” he said softly. “Some of it I would prefer ne’er to repeat again.”

  He could feel she was holding her breath. Most likely in dread, afraid of what he was about to say. Were the circumstances different, had he not very nearly died, he might have toyed with her for a moment, allowing her to fret and think the worst. Nay, the moment was to important to spend on jests and sarcasm.

  “With all that I am, Rianna MacAllistair, I love ye. When I am with ye, I feel whole again. Ye somehow have the power to cast out all my demons. Just bein’ in yer presence, I get this overwhelmin’ sense of bein’ home.”

  He resisted the urge to chuckle at the sound of her expelling the breath she’d been holding. Gently, he caressed her arm with his fingertips, in featherlight circles. “I can only hope that ye could some day feel the same about me.”

  Slowly, she sat up, her expression questioning his soundness of mind. “Are ye daft? I have nae left yer side fer days. I prayed o’er ye, cleaned yer wounds, changed yer bandages, and worried myself sick o’er ye! How can ye —”

  Smiling devilishly, he did not give her time to finish her tirade. Wrapping a hand around her neck, he pulled her in and kissed her soundly. He imagined he could live to be five hundred years old and never tire of hearing her indrawn breath when he kissed her. Would never grow weary of how warm and sweet her lips tasted.

  Before things could get out of hand, he pulled away slightly to look into her eyes. “Yer father left a message for me. An order, really. One I fear I cannae ignore.”

  Confused, she could only stare at him mutely.

  “If I refuse, he has promised to have me drawn and quartered, my head set on a pike, and the rest of me set afire and burned to ashes so that he might trample through them on horseback.”

  Stunned and terrified, Rianna said, “We must away this place at once then!”

  Aiden chuckled softly as he played with a long tendril of her hair. “Would ye nae like to hear what the order is first, before ye go plannin’ our escape?”

  From her fearful expression he knew her imagination was running rampant. “What?” she asked breathlessly.

  “I am to marry ye.”

  Confusion turned to astonishment before turning to relief. “Ye are?”

  “Aye,” he said with a nod. “I am. Jean Luc had the banns posted earlier, while ye were sleepin’.”

  Slowly, she backed away from him, her lips pursed into a thin line. “’Twas kind of ye to ask me first,” she said sharply. “Why do men think they can simply order a woman to do their biddin’ without any regard for their opinion on the matter? And ye? Ye are wantin’ to marry me only because ye fear for yer life?”

  “Aye, I do. But nae because I fear what yer father will do to me,” he said in a soft yet serious tone. “Rianna MacAllistair, I l
ove ye and want to spend the rest of my life with ye. I fear that if ye say nay, I shall be forever doomed to walk this earth alone, with a broken heart, my soul left barren, ne’er to feel a moment of peace or joy e’er again.”

  Tears brimmed in her eyes. “Aye,” she whispered. “I shall marry ye.”

  Afterword

  Dear Reader,

  If you want to read more titles in the Ever My Love collection, please do! You can follow the ring as it makes its way through the centuries!

  Of Love and Legend by Kathryn Le Veque: Medieval England - The ring finds its way into a notorious outlaw's possession only to curse the woman he loves.

  Forever Her Champion by Suzan Tisdale: The Scottish Highlands - The ring escapes with a little girl... and the curse follows.

  Breath from the Sea by Eliza Knight: Tudor England - The ring once again becomes the prize for the lawless when an infamous female pirate tries to steal it from a Queen’s Naval Captain.

  Only You by Cheryl Bolen: Georgian Era - Twin sisters vie for the ring - and for the Duke of Axminster.

  Call of the Wild Wind by Sabrina York: Regency England - The ring enters the proud and proper Regency set where the curse finds new life.

  The Guardian Mist by Susan Stoker: Modern Times - Mistaken identity, soul mates, and the last chance for the ring to fulfill its destiny.

  Preface

  The following is a sneak peek at my upcoming novel, Ian’s Rose, Book One of The Mackintoshes & McLaren’s Series. It will be live on all vendors on August 26, 2016. For a complete list of my titles, please visit the “Also By Page” in this ebook.

  Prologue to Ian’s Rose

  March 1356, The McLaren Keep in the Highlands

  There is a special place in hell for men like Mermadak McLaren.

  Those who had suffered at his hand for too many years to count, celebrated openly and joyfully at the news of his death. Many believed whoever ’twas that took the auld son-of-a-whore’s life should be sainted, made king, or at the very least given his weight in gold as a blessedly deserved reward.

  ’Twould be no lie to say none would miss him.

  As for the whereabouts of Donnel McLaren, the man who had helped the former laird steal, lie, and cheat Clan McLaren to near utter ruin, ’twas anyone’s guess. Hopefully, he was burning in hell right next to the McLaren. There weren’t many who were as vile, cruel, or evil as the two of them. Those few clansmen who remained were content for now to believe evil would never touch them again, or at least not for a very long while.

  The McLarens had suffered through a cold, bleak, and harsh winter, living in the old granary, making plans for the future and dreaming of spring. The one thing that kept them going, even at those times when it felt God had forsaken them, was knowing Mermadak McLaren could never hurt them again.

  But on this dark, windy night in early spring, Ian Mackintosh’s thoughts were as far away from evil men as they could get. Nay, he was thinking only of Rose, the woman he loved beyond doubt or denial. Never in his life had he met anyone such as she. Quick-witted, wise, and always blunt and to the point when she had something to say. And God’s teeth, she was beautiful. Long, wavy blonde locks that turned gold in the sunlight, blue eyes as bright and vivid as the Highland sky in springtime, and a smile that melted his heart like honey in the sun. Though she was wee, the top of her head barely reaching his heart, she was as mighty as a shield maiden from the north-lands. She possessed a body to shame Aphrodite herself and Ian wanted desperately to discover that secret paradise.

  They were alone now, just the two of them, in one of the few rooms of the keep not destroyed by the fire Mermadak had set months before. The rest of the clan — those dedicated souls who had remained behind to brave the harsh winter — were hunkered down in the granary.

  “I love ye, Rose, with all that I am.” Ian’s voice was as soft as the smoke rising from the brazier, and just as warm against her skin. “I want ye to be me wife. I want to build a life with ye, if ye’ll have me.”

  Looking into those mesmerizing deep blue eyes of his, she had no doubt he spoke from his heart. He held her hands in his, but whose were trembling more was an unanswerable question. Though his grip was gentle, she could not help but think he was holding on for dear life. Her answer, she knew, would either make his heart soar amongst the heavens, or shatter into inestimable pieces. Before she could say aye or nay, they needed to have a very important discussion. A discussion that, in the end, could change both of their lives forever. Either for the better or for the worse; ‘twould be up to Ian.

  With all her heart she wanted to shout Aye! I will marry ye! Never had she met anyone quite like him, even if she did believe to a certain extent he was like most men, with only three things usually on his mind: food, coin, and loving. Aye, he was interested in those things, but there was more to Ian than that. He adored her, was kind and generous, and she often found him humorous even when he wasn’t intending to be. He was also quite handsome. So handsome in fact that her mind often wandered to lustful and delicious thoughts of what it would be like to share the man’s bed.

  Aye, without a doubt, he adored her. He would protect her and love her until he took his last breath on God’s beautiful earth. What more could a woman ask for in a man? Strength, honor, good looks were a welcome change to the men she’d known before the Mackintoshes arrived and changed all their lives forever.

  She took several deep breaths to calm her nerves before she could speak. “Ian, I love ye with all that I am as well. I never felt this way before, not even with Almer, me first husband.”

  The smile that broke on his face was a blend of relief and pride. Certain that what she was about to say next would make that smile disappear, she burned the image into her memory. Every bit of his handsome face, from the way his full lips were curved upward to the sparkle in his intense blue eyes that crinkled slightly at the corners. The tiny freckle in the corner of his mouth just under his bottom lip that was often hidden, for he typically went days without shaving.

  If she were to be struck dead at this very moment, she would die a most happy woman. She could take this beautiful image of him with her to keep her warm and content throughout eternity. But that would have been the coward’s way out of a potentially ugly situation. And Rose was never one to behave as such.

  “I fear there is somethin’ we must discuss first, Ian. Somethin’ of great importance.”

  Although he continued to smile, his eyes were filled with questions. “Great importance?” He was confident that it was not so important as to change his feelings toward her.

  “I can no’ give ye children,” she told him sadly.

  As the morning mist evaporates against sunlight, so did his smile, when the reality of her words slowly sank in. ‘Twas not what he expected to hear. “Ye be barren?”

  Rose gave a slight shake of her head as she swallowed back tears. “Nay, I can get with child, but I can no’ carry past me third month.”

  Ian had never dreamed of having children until he fell in love with Rose McLaren. He hadn’t exactly led the kind of life that would allow for a wife or bairns. Those past encounters with women, now that he reflected upon it, were nothing more than moments taken to meet his physical needs.

  But Rose? Somehow, without even trying, she had changed him from a whoring, warring, drinking fool to a man who looked to the future with new eyes. A future with Rose as his wife and the mother of his many children.

  Pain and sorrow filled her eyes and he could feel both to his very core, just as deep as if it had been his own personal loss. Possessed with the overwhelming urge to take her into his arms, he pulled her close. They clung to one another for comfort, solace, and strength. “It matters no’ to me,” he whispered against her blond locks with a voice that cracked.

  Although nothing was between them but the pounding of their hearts, Ian sensed something hanging in the air, something more she wanted to say but he knew his heart could not bear to hear the words. He’d not give
her the chance to tell him she could not marry him.

  Swallowing back his disappointment, he set any thoughts of a cottage bursting to the rafters with children aside. “I am one of many sons,” he began, still clinging to her as if she were a mast on a sinking ship. “I’ll never be chief, so I’ve no legacy to build. I’ll no’ need many sons or even daughters. I will be content all the rest of me days if it is just ye and me, alone in a croft, farmin’ the land. As long as I can grow old with ye, spend each morn watchin’ the sun rise with ye at me side and watch it set at the end of the day, me life will be complete, Rose. All I shall ever need or want, is ye.”

  Oh, how she wanted to believe him. “But what if ye someday change yer mind? What if ye realize later that ye do want children and I can no’ give them to ye? I could no more bear that than losin’ yer babe.”

  Squeezing her more tightly, he pressed a kiss against her head. “Then ye have me permission to remind me of this moment before ye beat me senseless.”

  She knew he was using humor in an attempt to assuage her worries, but this time, it did not work. Hiding her damp eyes against his chest, she murmured perhaps the one thing that bothered her most. “I could no’ bear to lose yer child, Ian. ‘Twould be me undoin’. ’Twould be a loss I could never overcome.”

  A babe of their own was the one thing she wanted most to give him, but the fear of losing his child was far stronger than that singular desire.

  “Wheest, now, me love. Ye and I are neither foolish nor lackin’ in knowledge. We both ken there be ways of enjoyin’ one another as man and woman without the worry of creatin’ a babe.”

  Slowly, she pulled away to look into his eyes. He was filled with hope for the future and adoration for her and ’twas as contagious as the ague. After the loss of her last babe, Almer had stopped sharing a bed with her. Not out of anger but out of his love for her. He had known how much the losses had hurt and he refused to put her through such pain again. Even after she had told him there were ways they could love one another without the fear of another loss looming over their heads, he still refused.