The Highlander's Bride

by Donna Fletcher

  His hand explored along her waist, up to her breast, without ever growing too intimate. He simply teased her into thinking he’d touch her intimately, damn him!

  Trouble. She was definitely in trouble.

  Pinch! Pinch! She screamed silently to herself, reached out to pinch her arm and caught his neck.

  “Ow!” he yelled, pulling away from her while rubbing his neck. “Don’t tell me you meant to pinch yourself again?”

  She had, but actually it worked a whole lot better pinching him. “We should be going.”

  “You didn’t have to pinch me to tell me that.” He grinned smugly after standing and offering his hand to her. “Enjoyed that little plunge into intimacy, did you?”

  Sara ignored his hand and stood on her own, gathering up the blanket that had thankfully rested on a dry spot of grass. “It had its moment.”

  Cullen’s grin vanished in a flash. “What do you mean by that?”

  She made a fuss of folding the blanket, a necessary diversion since her heart was beating madly and her trembling legs were sure to give way at any moment. “It was adequate.”

  Cullen snatched the blanket from her hands. “How would you know adequate when you’ve never been kissed?”

  She opened her mouth to spew out a defense and stopped abruptly, her mouth remaining open.

  “Aha! I’m right,” Cullen said, grinning widely. “You have never been kissed.”

  “You’re right,” Sara admitted with no reluctance. How could she deny the truth, and why would she want to? “I haven’t ever been kissed.”

  “Then how would you know if a kiss was adequate or not?” he challenged.

  “Easy,” she said, yanking the blanket out of his hands to finish folding it. “It’s how a kiss makes you feel that determines its potency.” Since her legs had finally stopped trembling, she should be admitting that his kiss near did her in, but that would be surmountable to surrender, which was not an option.

  Cullen walked up to her and took firm hold of her chin. “Are you going to stand there and tell me that you felt nothing when I kissed you?”

  Sara smiled sweetly, her hazel eyes dancing with merriment. “I felt enough to pinch you.”

  Her remark, though actually meant as a compliment, was taken as she had expected. Cullen released her chin as if she’d just pinched him again, while his own chin tightened in an effort to fight his annoyance.

  He raised his finger as if to scold her, stopped, turned, then turned back again. “I can certainly understand your father wanting to find you a husband. The poor unlucky soul.”

  Her smile grew even sweeter. “It’s unkind to speak of yourself that way.”

  He cringed, reached out his hand toward her, stopped midway, grumbled something incoherent, then snapped, “It’s time to go.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” she said, handing the rolled blanket to him. Then, with a lift of her skirt, she hurried past him to her horse.

  Afterward, deciding that silence might prove beneficial, she remained quiet for a time, giving him a chance to settle his annoyance. Just when she thought she would go crazy remaining silent any longer, they both jolted to a stop when the ground quaked beneath them from the sound of approaching horses.

  Cullen signaled her to take cover in the woods. They had no sooner disappeared amidst the trees than a wagon heavily loaded with barrels came rumbling down the worn road, a skinny friar driving the team.

  Something wasn’t right about the scene. The friar was sweating profusely, his thin face splotched red and a nervous glint in his eyes, and he drove as if the devil was chasing him.

  Cullen signaled her to stay where she was, and she couldn’t agree more. As the friar disappeared from sight, a troop of soldiers came barreling down the road, their horses’ hard, steady gait like thunder.

  Shouts, demands, and pleas split the air, followed by a round of laughter before silence finally ensued.

  “It’s not wise to trail the soldiers,” Cullen whispered. “Do you know of another way to reach your home?”

  “There’s a less traveled path. Certain areas we will need to walk the horses, but it will bring us to the market, though add several hours to our journey.”

  “I would rather be safe.”

  “Soldiers hunt you?”

  “I can’t be sure,” he said. “I hoped the Earl of Balford believed that I sailed to America with my brother, but he must have gotten word by now that someone has been asking questions regarding the birth of his grandson.”

  “Do you think the Abbess will alert the earl to the situation?”

  “I’d count on it. The only thing in our favor is that she doesn’t know our destination, doesn’t know my son’s whereabouts. That will give us time, though how much, I can’t be sure, which means we can’t take any chances. We trust no one.”

  She nodded, feeling the same. She wanted Cullen to reunite with his son and escape to the safety of America with him. She had kept Alexander from the Earl of Balford once; she’d do it again. Only this time she would also protect the father along with the son.

  He signaled her to follow him but remain silent.

  As much as she would have loved to chatter with him, she kept a tight rein on her lips. They took it slow, and just as the path divided, they caught a glimpse of where the wagon had been stopped. A couple of barrels lay broken on the ground, wine staining the patches of remaining snow. There was no sign of the skinny friar, and Sara didn’t want to imagine what might have happened to him.

  The road they now traveled had been far less traveled, and it impeded their progress to forge a path where there appeared to be none.

  They weren’t far along when out of the woods popped the friar, waving his hands, only now he wasn’t wearing friar robes, his garments threadbare and haphazardly patched.

  “Take pity on a poor man and help me?” he begged.

  Chapter 10

  As soon as he caught sight of the man emerging from the woods, Cullen instinctively reached for his sword, drawing it from the sheath attached to his saddle. Then he boldly pranced his horse in front of the man, purposely keeping him away from Sara.

  “I mean you no harm,” the man urged, his thin frame trembling.

  “Do the soldiers hunt you?” Cullen asked, ready to put substantial distance between the stranger and them.

  The man quickly shook his head. “No. No, they let me go, thinking me a friar unwilling to share his brew. If they knew I was a farmer who had stolen the brew to sell to help feed his hungry family, they would have done me in without a thought.”

  “Where is your farm?” Cullen asked, being cautious until he could be sure that the man spoke the truth.

  “A good distance up the road.”

  “What do you want of us?”

  “Nothing more than to travel with you,” he pleaded. “It is safer in numbers than alone. I only wish to get to my wife and daughter, and you are welcome to take shelter in my home for the night, though—” He hung his head. “I have no food to offer you.”

  Cullen glanced at Sara and saw that she appeared as cautious as he of the man. In the event that his story should prove true, Cullen intended on helping him. He’d see no family go hungry when he had coins enough to spare. If, however, the man meant to steal from them, he would feel the end of the sword.

  Cullen leaned down and offered the man his hand. “You are welcome to join us. I am Cullen and—” He glanced at Sara. “—this is my wife Sara.”

  “I am Jeremy,” he said, accepting the offer with a shake. “And I am grateful for your help.”

  The terrain proved a challenge, forcing the animals to a slow stride, and so Jeremy was able to keep pace with the horses.

  Cullen kept a steady conversation with the man, and was surprised and pleased that Sara merely listened, but then, she was no fool. She understood Cullen’s intention, for she probably thought the same herself. Find out what you could about the stranger.

  Wasn’t that what they had be
en doing since they met? she thought. Finding out about each other? Getting to know and understand each other, yet not trusting—not just yet, or perhaps never. Only time would tell.

  “How did you come by the wine?” Cullen asked, almost feeling Sara nod approvingly behind him.

  “I had taken to the road in an attempt to find a safe place to hunt for food,” Jeremy said. “The manor lords are getting worse in protecting their lands against those who they deem poachers. Tenants cannot survive on the harvest alone, especially when the harvest proves bleak and the manor lords take more than their fair share.”

  Cullen had seen all too often how the poor suffered while the wealthy feasted.

  “I had no luck until I happened upon a friar taking his brew to market. He offered me a ride and I accepted. The friar never woke the next morning, and I buried him after taking his robe. I thought it a sign from the Heavens. If I could sell the brew at market, I could possibly get enough money to feed my family and maybe even buy us passage out of Scotland.”

  “Do you hunt with a bow and arrow?” Cullen asked, and felt another nod of approval from Sara.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Where is your weapon?”

  “Lost along with the wine. I tucked the bow between the barrels. It would have been foolish of me to pull the weapon on the soldiers, and even more foolish to let them know the weapon existed. They would have never believed me a friar if I carried a weapon.”

  Cullen knew he was right about that. Friars were men of God and needed no such protection. They would have suspected he was a fake immediately; if the man was now telling him the truth, of course.

  The path suddenly opened wide and Cullen signaled Sara up beside him. He wanted her opinion of Jeremy’s story. When her mare came alongside his, Jeremy picked up his pace to walk a few feet in front of them.

  “He looks familiar to me, though I can’t recall ever meeting him,” Sara said. “And he looks like he has gone hungry.”

  “I thought the same myself. His clothes hang on him as if he’s lost weight.”

  “Or he has stolen them. He could be nothing more than a thief.”

  “Or a hungry man trying to feed his family.”

  Sara shook her head. “I wish I knew why he appears so familiar.”

  “Give it time. It may come to you. For now it’s better we remain cautious.”

  They were alert to every suspicious sound and kept their guard high. Cullen wanted to take no chances. For all he knew, the Earl of Balford could have discovered that he’d never left on the ship to America, and the earl could already have offered a generous bounty for his return or death.

  They stopped hours later for a rest and to eat. Jeremy took the proffered food, breaking the bread apart to shove more than half in his pocket.

  “My family needs to eat,” he explained.

  “We have extra to spare,” Cullen offered.

  Jeremy’s dark eyes glistened and he near choked on the piece of bread he swallowed. “You would share with us?”

  “Of course we would,” Cullen said, thinking the stranger might well be telling them the truth. He was a simple farmer trying to feed his hungry family.

  Sara asked the question that was about to slip from Cullen’s lips. “Don’t you have a clan to look after you?”

  Jeremy shook his head. “My cousin isn’t much of a leader. He boasts and promises and does nothing to improve the lot of our small clan. Ginny and I hope someday to go to America. I hear that people like us have a chance at a better life there, a chance to own land of their own. We want to provide a better life for our daughter Gwen.”

  Jeremy brushed his hands free of crumbs. “I don’t mean to rush you but if we keep a good pace we can reach my farm by dusk, and I am eager to see my family.”

  Cullen stood and extended his hand to Sara. “Then let’s be on our way.”

  He had half expected her to refuse his help, but then, she had been quieter than usual and subdued in her manner. She was either up to something or acting the good wife in front of the stranger.

  That he was aware of the noticeable change in Sara reminded him of just how familiar he’d become with his new wife in such a short time. She wasn’t a woman easily ignored, though beauty wasn’t her draw. Her features were classic, defined like the sculpted statues that graced the churches. She appeared a pillar of strength and confidence, a woman a man could rely on.

  When he glanced over at her where she rode alongside him, she seemed lost in thought. No doubt that was the reason for her silence, since she talked endlessly, and surprisingly, her discussions were always of interest to him. She was a well-informed woman with strong opinions and the brightest, most unmanageable red hair he had ever seen. Actually, her hair was much like her; it did as it pleased, whether it curled tightly, sprang out oddly, or fell softly around her face and shoulders. Its unpredictability matched her perfectly.

  “He’s slovenly,” Sara said, her eyes fixed on Jeremy, who kept several paces ahead.

  “That sounds like an observation not an accusation,” Cullen said for clarification.

  “It is more like a clue.”

  “To help you recall what’s familiar about him?” Cullen scratched his head. “Slovenly is familiar?”

  “That’s it,” Sara said, thrilled, and reached out to squeeze Cullen’s arm. “You’re a genius, I love you.”

  His heart broke a little bit at hearing I love you. The last time he’d heard those words, they trembled off Alaina’s dying lips. He knew Sara meant it in a grateful sense, not a loving sense, but it had drudged up memories, reminding him how much he missed hearing it.

  “Jeremy,” she called out, excited.

  The man stopped and instinctively spun around and crouched as if bracing for attack.

  “It’s all right,” she assured him. “I was merely curious about your clan and wondered if I knew your leader, since I’ve been through these parts before.”

  “Harken McWilliams. I doubt a lady like you would know the likes of him. He’s a slovenly one.” He brushed at his soiled garments. “Not that I’m much better, but it’s been a hard trip in my search for food, and Ginny is going to have a fit when she sees the filth of me. My Ginny is a good wife and keeps what meager family garments we have in good repair, and clean as well. I’m a lucky man.”

  “You’re right. I don’t know him,” Sara said, with a raised brow to Cullen.

  He understood her silent message and her unwillingness to share the fact that she was the woman that Harken McWilliams, his cousin. had planned on wedding to improve his clan’s lot. Not that he expected Jeremy to be upset with her. More than likely he would be upset with his cousin for even thinking a woman like Sara would consider a careless man like Harken.

  Sara leaned closer to Cullen to whisper, “I feel I owe Jeremy and his family.”

  It certainly hadn’t been her fault that Harken was a poor leader and an idiot, Cullen thought, though he knew Sara would see it differently. She would feel responsible, simply because she had a caring heart and the courage and confidence to follow her convictions.

  Thank the Lord she did or his son would have been dead.

  “I’m sure we can help them somehow,” Cullen said in agreement.

  Sara smiled, pleased. “You are a good man. I am proud to call you husband for the short time we have together.”

  Her sincere words touched his heart, and then he grew annoyed at himself. Why should he care what she thought of him? She had forced him into marriage and…

  He let his glance drift to Jeremy. Taking in his appearance as if for the first time, he could see how his journey had taken a toll on his already worn garments, not to mention his sweat-clad body. Grime and sweat mixed to produce a pungent odor, and hearing Jeremy comment on his own disheveled appearance had made Cullen wonder if that was why the man kept a considerate distance from them.

  Cullen looked as if to rub his chin, but instead he pinched his mouth to keep from laughing, not at Jeremy
, but at the thought of Sara’s reaction when her father had presented her with his choice of a slovenly husband. He would liked to have seen her reaction, but then it must have been a powerful one since her father’s reaction was to send her to an abbey.

  Grudgingly he had to admit that maybe Sara did have good reason for forcing him to wed her. After all, she hadn’t asked for a lifetime commitment, he was simply a way out for her, and she was courageous enough to have taken it.

  Cullen turned upon hearing her yawn. “Tired?”

  Sara let another yawn escape before answering. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “Thinking about me?” he asked with a teasing laugh.

  “Yes, I was.”

  Not a grin, not a laugh, just a candid answer; damned if she wasn’t too confident to rile. Damned, though, if he wouldn’t try.

  “Losing sleep over me tells me surrender is near.”

  “Only if my thoughts centered on sex, which they didn’t,” she said frankly.

  She had slept planted tightly against him and had no sexual thoughts? He certainly didn’t want to hear that. Not only was it a blow to his manly pride, but to his confidence in attempting to seduce her.

  “Then if not sexual, what were your thoughts of me?” he demanded.

  “I thought how relieved you will be once reunited with Alexander, and how pleased Alaina will be that her son is safe with his father.”

  His heart lurched, his stomach rolled, and he almost would have cursed himself if he hadn’t bitten down on his tongue. He felt as if she’d cut his legs out from under him with her sincere response. There wasn’t an ounce of malice or smugness to her tone, nothing but pure honesty.

  “I guess Jeremy reminding me of Harken made me realize how lucky I am that you came along when you did. And how grateful I am that I can give you something in return for your help.”

  “You forced me,” he reminded her—as well as himself, else he’d be thanking her for marrying him.

  She dismissed his response with a careless wave of her hand. “Stop being childish. It is a good bargain and what is done is done.”