The Highlander's Bride

by Donna Fletcher

  Sara agreed with a nod and shut the door behind him.

  Cullen snatched up broken branches and sticks with a sense of annoyance. The trip thus far had seen too many delays. He was eager to get to his son. He had purposely avoided dwelling on his child, knowing it would do him little good to think about it, and besides, Sara had said Alexander was safe, and he trusted that she told him the truth. He had to; he had no other choice.

  His concern now was to settle this bargain with Sara, for then he could give his full attention to his son, whom he ached to hold in his arms and never, ever let go. He had sworn to a dying Alaina that he would always keep their son safe, and he would keep his promise.

  Cullen returned to the small cottage, dumped the broken branches and twigs in the small hearth, and set the wood to burning with a grumble and a groan.

  “Something troubles you?” Sara asked, sitting cross-legged on the blanket she had spread on the ground.

  “Delays,” he barked. “There have been too many delays.”

  Sara shrugged, toying with a stick in her hand. “Un-avoidable, and besides, we reach the market by tomorrow, and three days from there we arrive at my home.”

  Cullen reached for the stick in her hands. His fingertips touched hers and for a moment neither one of them moved.

  Then ever so slowly Sara stroked her finger along his. “You are a strong man.”

  Cullen snatched his hand away, the jolt from the innocent touch sending a shot of heat through him that landed tight in his loins. He turned, ignoring her remark and seeing to the fire, though he certainly didn’t need any more heat.

  Damn, but he truly did need a woman if a simple touch fired his loins so quickly.

  He almost jumped when Sara hunched down beside him in front of the fire, her side squashed to his.

  “The heat feels good,” she said, holding her hands out to the flames.

  He nodded, tossing in the last of the sticks, and drew in a breath, which he immediately regretted. The scent of her invaded his senses like an unexpected punch to the gut. She smelled of rich earth, pungent pine, and a hint of fresh rain, a potent combination, and damn if he could ignore it.

  But why should he? She obviously was working her wiles on him, so why not take control of the situation and have it his way?

  He turned, slipped his arm around her and dropped back on the blanket with her, his lips going for hers.

  He was shocked when his lips met her hand.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Giving you what you obviously want,” he snapped.

  “You thought I wanted you to kiss me?”

  “You touched my finger, hunched beside me—”

  She shoved him aside and sat up. “I thought you needed comforting. You looked upset.”

  “So you tell me I’m a strong man?”

  “I only wished to remind you of your strength and how it would help you, nothing more.”

  “You need to get close to me to do that?”

  “I offered you comfort, or is it that…” She grinned teasingly. “Is it that you simply can’t resist me?”

  His annoyance erupted in anger. “Resist you? You’re a bold, demanding, irritating woman who I was forced to wed and now I’m forced to bed. I have no problem resisting you.”

  Cullen regretted his cruel words as soon as they left his mouth, and more so when he watched all color drain from Sara’s face. Her remark had been made in jest, while his had meant to sting.

  Sara scrambled to her feet. “You need not bed me. Your wedding me was enough. I will take the chance of my father not finding out that our vows were never consummated.” She walked over to the window and pushed open the partially closed shutter to stare out at the rain.

  Cullen felt like kicking himself. He hadn’t meant to be cruel. He’d been upset and taken his misgivings out on Sara. He had been infuriated with her from the start, when she forced him to wed her, and gotten even angrier when she had told him he would have to bed her. But he had fast come to realize that Sara had done what was necessary for her freedom. Just as he’d done what was necessary to find his son.

  In judging her, he’d judge himself, for he would have done whatever it took to free himself from that prison and find his way back to Alaina.

  He needn’t be cruel to her when they’d both been faced with difficult decisions and made the necessary choices, like them or not.

  He walked over to her, his steps mindful, an apology on his lips.

  “Save your breath,” she said before he reached her. “I’ve heard enough apologies in my life to know they mean little and are meant to soothe the fool who spoke cruelly.”

  “I was—”

  “Angry with yourself,” she finished. “I’ve heard that time and again from my father while reminding me that if I were a dutiful daughter I would obey him and not upset him. And while I had little choice but to listen to my father’s lame excuses, I do have the choice of listening to yours. You’re my husband in name only, and that is the way it will remain. Take me to my home, spend a few weeks, and my father will have no problem accepting that you abandoned a demanding woman like me.”

  “That wasn’t our bargain.”

  Sara turned cold eyes on him. “It is now.”

  “I will fulfill the bargain we agreed upon,” he insisted.

  “No. You won’t!” She shoved open the shutter all the way. “The rain has stopped. We can leave and waste no more time.”

  Cullen reached out to her as she walked past him, but she shoved his hand away from her.

  “The fire needs dousing. I think I saw a bucket outside.” She went to the door.

  “I’ll get it—”

  She ignored him and walked out the door.

  “Damn!” he mumbled, raking his fingers through his hair. How the hell was he going to repair the damage he’d done? Should he even try? Was it better to keep her at a distance and be done with it? Or did he fulfill the original bargain that guaranteed his son’s return? He’d made an agreement, given his word, and in return he would have his son. How could he not give her what she needed when he would get what he so desperately wanted?

  Sara entered struggling with the overflowing bucket. He hurried to take it from her, and when she protested, he covered her hand with his.

  “Let me help you,” he said sincerely.

  “I don’t need your help.”

  Cullen pressed his nose to hers. “You’ll get it anyway.”

  “I don’t think so,” she argued.

  He smiled and gave her lips a quick kiss. “I know so.”

  She grinned slowly, much too slowly, so much so that it had Cullen easing his face away from hers, but too late. Her tongue darted out, stroking his lips before she claimed his mouth in a bone-crushing kiss.

  Damned if he didn’t respond.

  The bucket hit the ground and the two were in each other’s arms in an instant. Cullen cupped the back of her head, wanting, needing, to keep her close, keep the kiss lingering, keep their feverish tongues mating.

  When she pressed her body against his, he answered by rubbing up against her, and her soft moan echoed in his mouth, hardening his loins.

  Then suddenly she tore away from him and stood, her chest heaving, staring at him with such a painful look in her eyes that it felt like a knife to his heart.

  “You had asked me last night why not now? I told you I couldn’t say. I wondered why myself. Why not be done with it, as you had said. I foolishly believed that perhaps—” She hesitated. “—I might find pleasure with you, if only for a short time. To taste seduction and what followed.” She laughed sadly. “I even enjoyed our combative challenge of surrender.” She shook her head as though she thought better of saying any more. “I will not force you to bed me.”

  She walked out of the cottage, and Cullen almost went after her. Instead, he took the bucket and doused the flames. It was better this way, he thought. He would have merely used her to satisfy his manly needs. But then
she would have at least gotten to taste intimacy. Wouldn’t that have satisfied both their needs?

  He tossed the bucket across the room. She hadn’t been the only one who had enjoyed their little bouts of combat. She had managed to spark life back into him with a strange challenge, and he’d enjoyed outmaneuvering her attempts to have it her way.

  She hadn’t only managed to be a thorn in his side, but a constant in his mind, usurping thoughts of Alaina. The realization shocked him, and he stumbled out of the cottage determined to keep his mind focused on…

  Damned if Sara didn’t pop into his head before Alaina.

  Sara, however, who sat her horse, waiting, was presently giving him the most grief. Or was it the most challenge?

  “Finally ready?” she daringly accused.

  “Oh, I’m ready,” Cullen said, mounting his horse with powerful dexterity.

  “Good, then let’s be done with this.” Sara directed her horse in a steady gait away from the cottage and to the road.

  Cullen followed. He couldn’t have agreed more. This needed finishing for them both, but certainly not to her way of thinking. He had entered into a bargain with her and would not see that bargain absolved due to foolishness.

  If she gave him what he needed, then he would make certain that she got what she needed. It was only fair.

  Besides, he was feeling an idiot for having hurt her the way he had. He’d struck out at her when angry with himself—not that her candid nature had helped, but then she had only been honest with him.

  Cullen rubbed at his chin. Damn, if she didn’t confuse him.

  It had all been simple to start with. How had it grown so complicated? Wed, bed, get his son. Why hadn’t he simply stuck to that? Why had he allowed her to challenge him? Why had he allowed her circumstances to affect him?

  Why had he opened his heart to her?

  Then realization struck him.

  He had been numb since Alaina died and certain he would never feel again. And this brash, wild redhead had managed to stir his feelings.

  “You needn’t bother to buy me that sweet cake,” she said from her stiff perch on her mare.

  Cullen couldn’t resist a grin. She was a prideful woman, and a determined one, no withering flower on the vine, and he couldn’t help but admire that.

  “I want to,” he said firmly.

  “Why?”

  Her sharp, curt query startled him, but his reply was simple. “Because I want to!”

  “And if I refuse?” she said, not turning to look at him.

  He laughed. “You won’t be able to. The sweet cakes are too irresistible, just like me.”

  Chapter 13

  They broke camp early the next morning after an uneventful and quiet night. Sara saw no point in speaking with Cullen. There wasn’t anything left to be said. He’d made himself clear.

  And it had stung!

  She hadn’t wanted to admit it stung, but it had. She should have expected it, she told herself. What did she think, that this was some fairy tale union where love would conquer all?

  She sneered at the foolish thought.

  She had mistakenly thought to enjoy the intimacy the sealing of their vows would bring, and why? Idiotically, she had found him appealing. Even his undying love for Alaina had touched her heart. She’d thought that for a moment she would be able to sample lovemaking, but that was never a possibility, only a silly dream.

  She was much better off sticking to the practical, making plans for a future alone and filling it with worthy achievements.

  “We’ll need to be cautious at market,” Cullen said from behind her.

  Sara didn’t turn around. She kept a steady gait along the well-worn path. “I know.”

  “We’ll need to appear the loving couple.”

  “I can be sly when needed.”

  “Aha! You are like your father.”

  Sara heard the teasing in his tone and chose to ignore it. “Like my father, I use my skills against an enemy.”

  He made no reply, for which Sara was relieved. She was in no mood to banter with the Scotsman. She simply wanted to return home and finally resume her life. Cullen could go wherever he chose once he made a good show of short-lived marital bliss. She expected nor wanted any more from him.

  “We’ll replenish our food supply and be on our way,” he said.

  She nodded her agreement, thinking it best they didn’t linger and be remembered, just in case someone searched for them.

  When the path opened wide, Cullen brought his horse to trod alongside her mare.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  Sara understood he meant it as an apology, but it didn’t ease her pain. “You spoke the truth. I prefer it to a lie.” Even though in the end both could cause suffering. Where, then, was the line drawn?

  “It was unkind of me.”

  “True, but the truth is often unkind.” And she didn’t want to feel its sting anymore. It had been with her long enough, his words replaying in her mind until she had felt moved to tears. She had been rejected enough. Why had she let one more rejection bother her?

  “It’s no excuse,” he said gently.

  True as that might be, it had already consumed far too much of her thoughts, leaving her vulnerable, which she didn’t like. It was time to redirect her strength. “There is a farm just outside the market where we can leave the horses under safe keeping, for a price, of course.”

  Cullen nodded. “Good idea, and be sure to stay close to me. I don’t want us separating.”

  “At least not yet,” she purposely reminded him.

  She knew her intentional barb had hit its mark when he winced.

  They traveled on in silence, and for once she was comfortable with it. Enough had been said. Now was the time to move on toward the end of their bargain and the reuniting of father and son.

  A tear formed in the old farmer’s eye when Sara watched him stare at the generous amount of coins Cullen deposited in his gnarled hand as payment for keeping their horses safe.

  “We’ll be no more than a couple of hours,” Cullen told him.

  “Take what time you need,” the old man said on a choked cough. “Your horses are safe with me. I give you my word.”

  That was all most Scotsmen had left, their word, their honor, and it was something that would never be taken from them. Sara understood since it meant the same to her. She had given her word once, and she intended to keep it, no matter what it cost her.

  They walked hand and hand into the market, Sara wearing a bright smile and a wool shawl, since the day had grown sunny, a hint of warmth in the air. Winter and spring were at odds, one refusing to let go, the other pushing to take over.

  Either way, it didn’t matter. She felt a jolt of joy at the sights and sounds of the busy market. It had been too long since she was here, the last time with her father, though she’d spent a good portion of the time on her own and had loved it.

  “Stay close,” Cullen whispered in her ear as he gave her cheek a peck.

  She would have liked to believe he meant to keep her safe, and of course he did, but not because he was a concerned husband. He couldn’t chance anything happening to her, for then he’d never be able to find his son.

  She took firm hold of his arm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “That you’re not,” he said, and dragged her over to a table loaded with smoked fish.

  They nibbled, ate, and talked their way through the market, all the while keeping watchful eyes on their surroundings. A few soldiers meandered throughout but paid no heed to a loving couple. They were more interested in the lone females, especially the ones willing to sell their wares.

  Their purchases mounted, mostly foodstuff, though Cullen stopped and convinced an old man whittling a horse to let him purchase it. The man thought him daft, but the coin convinced him he was serious, and Cullen grinned with pride when he held it out to Sara.

  “For my son.”

  Sara smiled and strolled on.r />
  She lingered at a table heavy with silks and linens, wishing she could bring a gift to her sister Teresa, especially a deep blue silk. The color would look perfect on her, Teresa being much fairer, with sun-colored hair and half her size.

  “You like that?” Cullen asked, slipping his arm around her waist.

  “It’s perfect for my sister. I would love to bring a gift to her.”

  “I’ll buy it for you.”

  “I’ll repay you,” she said quickly.

  “No need,” he said, and bartered with the merchant for a fair price.

  She was about to thank him when he took hold of her hand and dragged her across the narrow aisle to a market stall protected with a makeshift canopy and concealed by a crowd of people.

  He grinned. “Sweet cakes.”

  They waited, and when finally reaching the front of the line, Cullen purchased four of the round sticky cakes, devouring one in seconds after handing one to Sara.

  She nibbled at hers, though it was a fast nibble since the cake was simply scrumptious and hard to resist. They both ate the remaining two in no time, standing off to the side in between two stalls where they wouldn’t be disturbed or disturb others. The one stall had fresh baked breads from dark to light to crusty and soft.

  While Sara licked her fingers and watched the throes of people passing by, Cullen purchased a few loaves. He took her arm as they maneuvered into the crowd and stopped just as quickly, to hurry her over to a table where he insisted on buying her several brightly colored ribbons for her hair and a beautifully carved ivory comb, much too expensive.

  They stepped aside as Cullen planted the comb firmly amidst her curls as she objected. He silenced her lips with a firm finger.

  “I’m sorry. Forgive me,” he whispered, moving his finger to kiss her gently. “You truly are a beautiful woman.”

  Sara stood speechless, her heart swelling with a flutter. He sounded as if he meant every word. His apology was from his heart, and not just meant to placate her and mend their rift.

  “Sometimes men are simply fools, though not an excuse, but the truth, and I realize that you recognize the truth when you see it or hear it. Please, forgive my stupidity.”