Euphemia had been abused by Gillis, as well, but it had not been until the day Alex had succumbed to her desire to be whipped that he realized she had enjoyed Gillis’s abuse—thrived on it almost. It had been that realization that had driven him to break off his relationship with her. Yet, his need to dominate in the bedchamber remained. It was not normal—he knew it in his heart and in his gut—and it was not acceptable. It didn’t matter that the lasses he had joined with all desired such submission.
Lena cleared her throat, bringing his attention back to the present. She looked down at her slippers, causing her thick hair to shield her face from his view like a russet blanket. “They said ye were verra wicked, but apparently, they loved yer wicked ways.” Her voice rang with her embarrassment. Still staring down, she said, “Do ye mean to continue to carry on with the lasses?”
His mouth parted at her words as he stared at her. She had her toe pointed in her slipper, and she was tracing it back and forth across the planks, clearly agitated. He had only himself to blame. That was the God’s honest truth. He’d asked her to tell him what she had heard, and there was a part of him that had known damn well it might be something exactly as she’d relayed. His dark appetite was already shadowing his marriage, though thankfully, she did not seem to have learned of any details. Perchance all she had really heard was idle gossip and not real facts. “Nay,” he said, his voice raw to his ears. “I vow it.”
She looked up, uncertainty twisting her lips. “And if I kinnae satisfy yer desires? Do ye vow to be true to me still?”
The idea of asking his wife, who had endured so much abuse, to submit to him in the bedchamber and to tread the edge of pain with him, was unspeakable. He would control himself with her always and give only tenderness. “The moment ye became my wife, Lena, ye became the only woman for me. There is nae anything ye can do that will ever change that. I will be true to ye always.”
She nodded. “And I to ye,” she said fervently, then gave him a crooked smile. “Though as fearful as I seem around men, I doubt ye have a concern that I will forsake ye.”
Without thought, he reached out and brushed her hair away from her face and over her shoulder. She stilled, but she did not flinch. He smiled at the small bit of progress. Gently, he cupped her face with his hands. Her breath hitched and her nostrils flared, yet she did not try to move away. His wife was a warrior on the inside, and he was going to help her release the fighter once more. She would need to be strong and have faith in herself if the people of his clan were to listen to her and obey her commands. He could order them to, but then she’d never have their respect, and if anything should ever happen to him or if he was simply away and she required their aid, they needed to see her as a leader.
“Ye are so verra beautiful, Lena. I will always fash that men will lust after ye, but I will nae ever fash that ye would nae be true. Nae because of yer fear but because of this.” He moved his hand from her right cheek to her heart. Beneath his fingertips, the frantic beat of her emotions thundered. Yet he pressed on with determination to forge a bond that would soon be tested to its limits. “Yer heart is pure.” Tears suddenly rolled down her cheeks, and he wiped them away. “Why do ye cry?”
“Fear and hope, I suppose,” she said with the candor he now knew to expect from her.
“Let us pray hope wins.” He released her and held out his hand. “Come,” he said, leaving his hand extended as if she had taken it a thousand times. “I imagine ye are hungry and tired.”
She glanced between his face and his hand and then slipped her smaller hand in his. An intense emotion he could not name flared through him. He looked down at her and closed his fingers firmly around hers. “I’m afraid what we have to sup on aboard the birlinn is rather meager.”
“Och!” She offered a dismissive gesture. “I once went a week eating only crickets and such when I was put in the dungeon. Meager fare dunnae frighten me.”
A hard knot of fury formed in his belly. She was giving him little clues to her past treatment that he needed in order to understand her. He did not want to make her feel embarrassed by revealing such things, yet he needed to know if the Campbell laird had been aware of how his son had treated her. And if the man had, he would suffer.
“I presume,” he said in as casual a voice as he could muster, “that it was Findlay who put ye in the dungeon.”
“Aye,” she said, anger threading her tone.
“When Findlay treated ye poorly, what did the Campbell laird say?”
Her eyes narrowed. “That man is evil,” she growled. “He encouraged Findlay’s cruelty, though that dunnae excuse Findlay’s behavior.”
“Nay,” Alex agreed, his mind turning on how he would make the Campbell laird suffer for his crimes against Lena. “It dunnae. The Campbell will be held accountable for his hand in how ye were treated.”
“I dunnae see how,” she said. “The king needs his men, so David demands action nae be taken. My brothers all want to kill him.”
“I will find a way,” he vowed and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. He blinked in amazement when she responded with one of her own.
Six
Lena woke from her dream in a cold sweat. Her eyes flew open, and she jolted up in bed, unsure where she was until a breath later when her sight grew accustomed to the darkness and she saw Alex.
He squatted an arm’s length away, his forearms resting on his thighs. He brought his hands slowly up and splayed his palms facing her to show, she supposed, that he intended no harm. “I did nae mean to wake ye.”
His low, reassuring tone slowed her pulse. She nodded as she rubbed her blurry eyes. “I dunnae believe ye woke me. I was having a nightmare.”
“Aye, I ken,” he said, concern evident in his voice. “I heard ye.”
“Ye heard me?” She frowned. Alex had led her to this small pallet to sleep on last night, and it had been situated well away from everyone else. He had fashioned a way for his men to drape their plaids over pieces of wood they’d nailed to the long boards, which they’d made into the shape of a tiny shelter so that she had privacy. If Alex had heard her, she must have been making quite the racket. Heat rose to her cheeks, and she wondered if anyone else had heard. The noise of the ship was great, even now with darkness still in the sky, so possibly only Alex had heard. She knew he’d not been lying with her. He’d told her earlier, to her relief, that he would be overseeing the men for most the night, so if he slept at all, it would be sitting up with a man near to nudge him if he was needed. “Were ye near when ye heard me?”
“Aye. I came to see about ye,” he said simply. “This last time—”
“This last time?” she interrupted.
The moon lit his face enough that she could see wariness flash across it. “I may have attended to yer welfare once or twice before now.”
“Ye did,” she murmured, trying and failing to fight the pleasure his admission brought her.
The birlinn dipped suddenly, making her stomach roil and causing her to gasp. Alex was beside her with his arm around her waist before she knew what was happening. Her pulse sped up, but she did not push his hand off her hip. She left it, breathing deeply in and out and assessing how she felt. Initially, there had been a spike of fear, but it was already abating, and a different, unexpected emotion was overcoming her. He settled beside her, and encircled in Alex’s strength and warmth, with her thigh pressed against the length of his steely one, a sense of safety enveloped her. The shock of it caused her to go stiff.
“Shall I release ye, lass?”
His warm breath tickled her neck as he asked the question. Too embarrassed to tell him she didn’t want him to let go just yet, she asked, “Where is Marsaili?” Lena had been so tired earlier that she was ashamed to admit she had not asked after her half sister.
“She’s still on the pallet in the open air. I offered to bring her to ye, but she feared being surrounded so closely by the plaids would make her feel suffocated and bring back her sickness.”
“Aye,” he replied. His gaze, which had been riveted on her face, slid ever so slowly to her neck, her shoulders, and then her breasts. Her heart thundered so hard she was certain he could hear it.
“By Christ, Lena,” he said in a low voice, “ye’re so beautiful and delicate I fear my touch might break ye.”
His honest admission and worry for her struck her to the core. He had not seen all of her, of course; he’d not glimpsed her body that was marred by scars. Still, his words made her belly flutter. She thought of what he said earlier when they were on the deck. He’d said he would always be true to her no matter whether she could bring herself to satisfy his natural man’s desires or not. She knew in her gut he meant it. His honor moved her deeply and made her want to try for him, so when he started to retreat from her, she grabbed his hand and cupped it between hers. Heat swept through her body, and her stomach clenched with trepidation, but if she did not try to move forward, whatever they might possibly have together would never blossom into something beautiful and may well die, despite the best intentions.
She swallowed hard. “I want to conquer my fear,” she said in a threadbare whisper.
His eyes went wide. That she could shock this typically unruffled man made her suddenly want to let loose a good hearty laugh as she had not done in years.
“Now?” he asked, his voice dropping a notch lower and rumbling deep from his chest. His relaxed body had become instantly tense.
She shivered, but this time it was not from fear. “Nae now,” she replied. She started to glance away but returned her gaze to him when she remembered his request that she look at him when speaking to him. “If ye’re willing to be patient—”
“I am,” he replied, not letting her finish. But she didn’t mind. His immediate response made her lips tug into a smile.
“I’m glad to hear it,” she said, trying for a teasing note she had often heard Bridgette use with Lachlan. When stark yearning crossed Alex’s face, she felt rather proud of herself. “It seems to me—” she said slowly, feeling a blush heating her cheeks. Lord, but she wanted to glance down to avoid seeing his face as she bared her feelings to him. But she would keep her gaze steady. Becoming courageous again was a matter of small steps, and if it killed her, she intended to take at least one step every day. “It seems to me,” she started again, “that there is nae a better man than ye to help me face my demons.”
Something intense flared in his eyes that made a tingle commence in the pit of her stomach.
“I could nae agree more,” he growled, possessiveness in his voice. “And seeing as how I am yer husband now, I’d say ’tis good for both of us that ye feel this way. I could…” He hesitated for a long moment. “I could linger here a bit, if ye wish it.”
She both wished it and didn’t. She hated feeling so torn. The fear ravaged her constantly. Clenching her teeth, she fought back against the black tide. “Are ye nae needed?” she asked, not wanting to pull him away if he was.
Alex slipped his hand out from between hers only to catch her fingers and thread them with his. All the while, his steady gaze bored into her, boldly assessing. Heat seemed to rush to every spot he touched as he traced a finger over her sensitive flesh. Emotions rioted within her, and her breath became harsh and uneven.
“Lass,” he said, his voice strong, smooth, and insistent, “there will nae ever be a place I’m needed more than by yer side when ye have want of me.” And then with shocking care for a warrior so fierce, he raised her fingertips to his lips and brushed a gentle kiss upon the edges. It was the most pleasurable moment of her life, and a sudden curiosity took hold of how his lips might feel on hers in passion not hampered by onlookers as at their wedding ceremony. She stared long and hard at his lips, but as she pictured his mouth slanting over hers, bad memories arose, and she shivered.
“Dunnae fash yerself, Lena. I want to kiss ye verra much. Just how much is actually shocking. But I’ll nae do it until ye ask me to, so ye need nae fear it.”
She jerked her head in acknowledgment, embarrassed that he had sensed her anxiety over possibly being kissed, but of course he had. Alex was a very perceptive man. She had told him she wanted to conquer her fear, and it was the truth, but she worried that her shame was part of her fear, and she didn’t know if she could conquer that. She certainly could never forget the shame Findlay’s treatment had caused her. There were enough scars on her body that she was constantly reminded of how she had submitted. She licked her lips, searching her mind for something to talk of other than being kissed by him, but before she thought of anything, he spoke.
“Can ye tell me more of yer time with Findlay, or is it too painful for ye?” he asked.
It was painful, but Alex’s guardedly hopeful expression suggested that he was simply eager to learn more about her. Yet, what did he wish to know? She didn’t want to speak more of the abuse. If he wanted to know that, she didn’t think she could force the words out. “What do ye wish to ken?”
“What did ye do with yer time? I imagine ye strove to keep busy and away from Findlay.”
A bitter laugh escaped her before she could repress it. When Alex cocked questioning eyebrows at her, she made herself explain. “He never sought me out, except at night when he wanted—” Her cheeks burned with mortification. “When he wanted me to fulfill my wifely duties.”
“He’s rotting in Hell,” Alex said with so much confidence that she laughed. Some of the embarrassment she had been feeling for a very long time at how Findlay had treated her little better than a hound, slipped away. Suddenly, she had a desire to talk about what she never had. She started to look at her lap, but when Alex pointedly cleared his throat, she looked up and smiled.
“I forgot,” she said.
“Dunnae fash,” he replied and ran a single finger very softly over the slope of her cheek. His hand was gone before she even had time to become vexed that he was touching her, and because of this, the desire that his gentle touch might have lingered longer stirred within. She thought she just might want to know how it felt to be caressed by someone who cared for her. But would he be disgusted when he saw the marks upon her body? She was not ready to learn the answer, which meant she was not prepared to ask for a kiss. A kiss would undoubtedly lead to other things in time.
“I taught myself to become an excellent swimmer,” she blurted, wishing to pull her mind away from her scars, kissing, and the other that came after the kissing.
“Did ye now?” He gave her a look of admiration.
She nodded. “I had learned how to swim somewhat as a child, of course, but I was nae a strong swimmer by any means. So I went to the loch every single day and practiced with the hope that I might get the opportunity to escape, and if I needed to swim away, I’d be ready.”
His face grew very serious. “And where were ye thinking ye would be escaping to?”
“Well, that’s just it, isn’t it? I did nae have anywhere to go, or at least I did nae ken that I did. I did nae have any notion that my brothers were even alive. My uncle had told me they had been killed, along with our father. I suppose I did nae try to escape because I could nae determine where to go.” A rush of anger filled her chest and then her throat, and despite her promise never to look away from Alex again when they were talking, she did. “I hate myself for nae trying,” she admitted, clenching her hands into fists. “If only I had, I would nae have suffered as I did. I was weak and cowardly.”
“Nay,” Alex replied harshly, his hand cupping her chin and gently turning her to him once more. “Ye are braw and wise. Had ye run, ye would have surely died or been taken by worse men than Findlay, having nae anywhere to flee.”
She did not want to argue with him. He could not change her mind, and the determined look in his eyes told her she could not change his. She had known Alex was a kind man, but she had not perce
ived the depth of his caring. Suddenly, she thought what he’d said about himself earlier, and she wanted to understand him as he was trying to understand her. “Why did ye say that ye were nae gentle?”
His expression, which had been open and inviting, immediately closed. He withdrew his hand from hers and regarded her warily. “I will always be gentle with ye, and that is all ye need to ken. What I meant earlier has naught to do with ye.”
She frowned. “But ye said it did. Ye said ye did nae feel ye’d be the best husband for me because ye were nae gentle enough.”
“It dunnae matter now,” he said in a tight voice. “We are married, and I will do what I must to defend ye.”
Her brow furrowed. “Defend me from what? From whom?”
“Everyone,” he said, suddenly rising, as the birlinn dipped hard again. “I best attend to the ship. The storm seems to be worsening, so I may be needed.”
She pressed her lips together on the desire to argue. Two breaths ago the man had said he could stay. It was only when she’d tried to get him to reveal himself to her that he’d decided he must depart. It was a clear excuse. “When ye ask someone to reveal themselves to ye,” she said, trying to keep her voice light and low, “it seems only fair ye should do the same.”
He paused with his hands on the plaids he’d likely been about to lift. “I will reveal what I can, Lena, but there are some things that must remain in my past. What I ask ye to reveal, I only do so with the desire to help ye.”
“And what of ye?” she asked. “Do ye nae have need of my help to overcome the things in yer past that haunt ye?”
When a Warrior Woos a Lass Page 6
