Return of the Rogue

by Donna Fletcher

  Cavan shook the memories out of his head. They always brought anger with them, and while one day he would use that anger to seek his revenge, he knew it did him no good now to dwell on it. It only caused him to feel alone, removed from family and friends, from everything around him. And for the first time since his return, he didn’t want to feel removed. He wanted to find his wife and teach her to survive in case he could not be there for her, in case he failed her, as he had his brother.

  Cavan found her in the stable with a litter of pups about five weeks old. She laughed as they scampered over her crossed legs and tumbled around in the hay. Their tiny tails wagged joyously and their brave barks were nothing more then a squeak.

  Honora scooped up an all black pup, a plump one that she seemed to favor as the pup did her. She cuddled it in her lap, and it jumped up against her chest, licking her face, and she cuddled the dog to her breasts and planted kisses on his face.

  Cavan waited in the shadow. When the pup scampered closer to him, his little backside raised in the air with tail wagging, small paws stretched out in front of him while he challenged Honora with a bark, Cavan scooped him up.

  The little fellow was so shocked it took him a moment to attack Cavan’s fingers with tiny teeth that could not break the skin. He squirmed and protested with barks, but his efforts were futile. He was captured.

  “You’re upsetting him,” Honora said, hurrying to her feet, the other puppies sensing danger and running off to hide.

  “Be still,” he ordered the puppy harshly, and the animal froze with fright.

  “You’re frightening him,” Honora accused, and rushed Cavan. “Let him go.”

  In a second Honora was captured as the pup had been. Cavan had his arm tight against her neck and another arm tight around her waist, her back plastered tight against his body. The pup was on the ground bravely trying to help Honora, nipping at Cavan’s sandals and barking.

  Cavan gave him a gentle shove with his foot and the little fellow cried and ran off.

  Honora elbowed Cavan in the rib and hit her mark.

  “Brave but stupid,” he said in her ear. “Now you’ve angered your captor and he will retaliate by punishing you.”

  “You were going to hurt the pup,” she accused.

  “You cared nothing for your safety, you merely thought of the pup, and that was why I was able to capture you so easily. You didn’t think it through. You simply charged forward in anger. First rule of battle, do not let anger rule. It is an unwise leader.”

  He felt her relax against him once she realized his actions were meant to teach.

  He gripped her more tightly and she gasped, yanking at his arm at her throat. “Never let your defenses down when in the presence of your foe,” he said, and released her abruptly.

  She stumbled away, the black pup appearing at her side to bark at Cavan, though from beneath the safety of Honora’s brown skirt.

  “Quiet!” Cavan commanded, and the pup vanished beneath the skirt.

  “When he grows, the pup will protect me,” Honora said in the little dog’s defense.

  “Only if you teach him as I teach you.”

  Honora hesitated. “I would like that, to teach the pup.”

  “To make him yours?” Cavan asked with a ridiculous twinge of jealously. How could he be jealous of a pup?

  “If that would be all right with you?”

  He wished she was strong enough to claim the pup as hers no matter what he said, then realized that had been her intention all along. She merely wanted him to believe she sought his approval.

  He smiled, realizing he knew his wife better than he’d thought. “You would do it anyway, wouldn’t you?”

  She reached down, scooped up the pup from beneath her skirt and hugged him against her breast. The little fellow delighted in the attention and cuddled closer to her. “Yes, I would. He’s irresistible.”

  “Teach him to protect you and he is yours,” Cavan challenged.

  “He will learn along with me,” she said with confidence, though the kisses she rained over his face had Cavan doubting and that twinge of jealously nipping sharply at him once again.

  “We start now. The pup is too young. Once weaned off his mother there will be time to start training him.”

  Honora nodded and smiled at the pup, which was too playful for her to continue to hold. She placed him on the ground and he scampered off to join the other pups in play. “My lesson for today?”

  “Know that an enemy will use whatever means he can against you.”

  “You refer to my love for the pup.”

  “Correct. Once I saw how you cared, it was easy to use him to get to you,” Cavan said, her violet eyes intent on his, which wasn’t good since the strange color always stirred his senses.

  “How do I free myself from the hold you had on me?”

  He’d had a good hold of her. She had been so firm against him that he could feel her every breath, sense her fear, smell her womanly sweat, which instantly intoxicated him. It was all too familiar to him now, and all too appealing. That was why he’d released her abruptly; he couldn’t chance keeping her that close, so near that he could almost taste or want to taste her.

  “Does your silence tell me that the question challenges you?” She teased with a smile, and he liked it. It showed she had courage.

  He grinned. “It is you who are challenged. How do you think you could extract yourself from such a situation? The man is larger, stronger than you. How do you escape his binding hold?”

  She paced the stall for a moment then stopped. “Can we resume the positions of my capture?”

  “Certainly,” he said, and within seconds she was once again flat up against him, his arm not as tight to her neck or her waist, which he told himself was for his own sanity not her comfort.

  She began to take deep breaths as if she struggled to breathe, her body heaving against him, her bottom flush to his groin and digging in with each heavy breath. She tried yanking at his arm, squirming, kicking, and with each thrust his groin hardened until finally…

  In a second Cavan had her on her back on the hay strewn ground, him on top of her. Her eyes bulged in shock and her chest heaved as he remained spread over her, her wrists clamped tight in his one hand.

  “Now I’ll show you the results of your inept attempt to escape.”

  His hand shot down to pull her skirt up while his fingers crawled along the soft flesh between her legs, but with much difficulty he stopped himself from going any further.

  “See what would be done to you,” he said through labored breath.

  Her breasts heaved against him, her cheeks flushed red, her breath turned rapid, and her violet eyes begged.

  “Not the way to escape,” he said through gritted teeth, fighting his passion, his need to take her there and then. She was his wife; he had every right, but no right to frighten her.

  She nodded, her breathing labored, her fear palpable.

  He groaned without realizing it and rested his forehead to hers. “I will kill anyone who dares lay a hand on you,” he said. “You belong to me.”

  Chapter 14

  Honora sat in the sewing room staring at the flames dancing wildly in the hearth, her arms wrapped around her, fighting a persistent chill. She didn’t recall her walk from the stable to the keep, her mind too busy with thoughts of what had just happened between Cavan and her.

  She had been shocked how fast she found herself on the ground and he on top of her. And if that hadn’t stunned her enough, there was the way he had intimately touched her, but worse than that, the way she’d felt about it.

  Another shiver claimed her, though she knew it was not from being cold, but from her surprising response to her husband’s touch and the knowledge that she knew he would not hurt her or force her. She knew him to be a good man. She’d known as much before she even met him, for the villagers had often spoken of his courage with respect. He had proven that with his determination to find his brother Ronan, and
in the many ways he’d protected her. He even followed her into the forest so many believed was haunted with magic.

  She thought it brave of him to come to her rescue, while the village gossiped over his odd behavior since his return and that he could emerge from the strange forest unaffected.

  Then there was the kiss that she could not forget. She ran gentle fingers over her moist lips recalling the taste of her husband. It had made her tingle inside and out and she hadn’t wanted him to stop. She enjoyed it more than she ever imagined possible. Her hand drifted away, returning to hug herself against the continued cold.

  She not only enjoyed his kiss, but now found pleasure in his touch. The thought alarmed and thrilled her and left her completely confused.

  And his claim, You belong to me and I will kill anyone who dares lay a hand on you, fed a need in her. Finally, she belonged to someone who cared enough to protect her. She had not felt similar comfort since her mother died. She’d struggled alone to survive the brutality of her stepfather, and that would no longer be necessary. She had a husband to protect her and a family who seemed to care for her, even if it was out of duty.

  This marriage was proving beneficial in so many different ways. She never thought she would be grateful to her stepfather for arranging it, but if viewing the situation with prudence, she realized her marriage was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

  There was just the matter of getting her husband to see the wisdom of their union and, of course, of sealing their vows.

  The door creaked opened and Honora turned to see the pudgy black pup nosing his way around inside with a peek. Spotting her, he charged as fast as his little legs would carry him.

  Honora plopped cross-legged on the floor and the pup jumped, though actually tripped over her folded legs to stretch his paws up on her chest and lick at her chin, his tail wagging wildly.

  “How did you ever—”

  “The little fellow seemed miserable without you so I thought I’d bring him for a visit.”

  Honora was surprised to see Cavan at the open door, his arms crossed over his broad chest, leaning against the door frame.

  “After all, he does belong to you now.”

  Her face lit with delight. “Truly? You do not mind?”

  “I like the thought of someone else besides me protecting you, and someone I can trust unconditionally.”

  “You will help me teach him,” she said, rather than asked, and watched the pup make a beeline for the basket of garments in need of stitching, jumping in, only to knock the basket and himself over.

  Cavan walked into the room and scooped the pup from amid the strewn garments. “I think he’ll need many lessons.”

  Honora smiled at the way the pup seemed to take to Cavan. He didn’t appear as frightened as before, and Cavan even seemed different toward the animal, more friendly and loving.

  “As will I,” she said bravely. “I did not fair well with the first lesson.”

  Cavan dumped the pup gently in Honora’s lap and lowered himself beside her on the floor, his knee raised and his arm braced over it. Her breath near caught, for the firelight captured the rugged angles and lines of his handsome face perfectly.

  “What matters is that you tried,” he insisted.

  “I also learned a valuable lesson,” she said softly, favoring the deep richness of his dark eyes. There was not only strength in the dark depths, but integrity, and dare she acknowledge a spark of passion?

  “What lesson is that?”

  “Think before I leap,” she said with a gentle smile.

  “A wise tactic for any warrior.”

  “Lachlan thinks me a warrior,” she said, petting the pup, who had curled up contentedly in the hollow of her lap.

  “Lachlan is perceptive, especially when it comes to women.”

  “He chases after them all,” she said with a giggle.

  “You noticed.”

  Honora rolled her eyes. “You would have to be blind not to see, though I think the women favor Artair, for he is very handsome.”

  “You think my brother handsome?” he asked tartly.

  The sting of his accusation surprised her. “I voice what everyone believes and is obvious.”

  He grinned, though she believed grudgingly. “You are right. I suppose I am jealous.”

  He startled her, and she was quick to ask. “Whatever for?”

  “You think Artair handsome. What of me?”

  She smiled softly and lowered her glance. “I like the look of you.”

  He lifted her chin gently with his one finger. “Truly?”

  “Yes. There is much your features tell me.”

  His finger drifted off her. “What do my features tell you?”

  She bravely scooted closer to him and reached out to tenderly trace the fine lines at the corner of his eyes. “These faint lines tell me of the wisdom you put into your thoughts and decisions.” Her finger traveled ever so lightly to his chin. “Your chin juts just enough to let me know you can be stubborn.”

  His eyes danced with merriment though he said nothing.

  Her finger casually traced his lips. “The faint fan lines circling your mouth tell me that you have not spoken often in anger, but rather hold tight to your words and give thought before you speak.” She returned to his eyes, her finger caressing beneath each one. “The color of your eyes brightens and darkens with your moods.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “And with your passion.” She quickly ran her finger to his scar and with a feather-light touch traced the length of it. “This scar speaks of your strength and courage.” She wanted to cringe, imagining the pain he must have suffered, but she would not ask, not remind him of such a horrifying experience. Her finger hurried to run down along his nose. “And this?” She tapped the tip. “Tells me nothing.”

  She laughed as she moved away from him, though her heart beat wildly in her chest and rippling heat replaced shivering chill. Lord, but she wanted to kiss him, taste him once again, though she hadn’t when she first started touching him. She’d simply intended to answer his question. She had not thought her innocent demonstration would strike such passion in her.

  Had it in him?

  The thought spread her smile and she took a good look at him. He sat stock still, not moving an inch, simply staring at her, though his chest looked to heave a bit more heavily, unless her eyes played tricks. Or it was wishful thinking?

  “Have I answered you satisfactorily?” she asked, breaking the awkward silence.

  He nodded, and she thought he didn’t intend to speak, but he did. “You examine me with more thought than I imagined.”

  “How else will I learn about my husband?”

  “You wish to know more of me?” he asked.

  “Why wouldn’t I? You are my husband. We will share much together through the years. I would prefer to be friends rather than foes.”

  “You expect the same from me?”

  Honora was relieved that he asked inquisitively, not accusingly, as if she had no right to expect that of him.

  “I hoped…” She paused, wondering if it was right of her to express her hopes or whether she should simply accept the way things were. After all, her marriage had been arranged. She was expected to be a good wife and do her duty, but that didn’t mean she and Cavan couldn’t be friends. “I hoped you would want the same.”

  He appeared to weigh her words, almost wonder over them, as if he hadn’t given their marriage the same thought and the idea required savoring.

  Honora focused on the pup. They had befriended each other so easily, but then, there were no expectations between them, simply friendship.

  “We are husband and wife,” he said, as if that clarified it.

  “That does not make us friends. You had not wished to wed me.”

  “But now you are my wife.”

  “So you have no choice but to be my friend?” she asked.

  “We have no choice but to be husband and wife.”

  “
But we have a choice to be friends.” If nothing else, that choice could be a beginning for them both, a beginning of a good friendship, and if nothing else, at least they would have that between them.

  “This is important to you?”

  What chance did they have if he couldn’t even bring himself to be her friend? Did he resent her that much? She could understand his reluctance and even his anger, returning home to find himself wed to a woman not of his choosing. And while he had no choice but to accept what had been done, he had a choice of how to live with it, with her.

  “Is it not to you?”

  “As I said, we are husband and wife, and will remain so. What does friendship matter?”

  She thought to debate the issue with him, but what good would it do if he had no interest in being friends? It was enough to him that she was his wife; that status apparently covered it all.

  Why did she bother to look for more from him? He would provide for her and protect her because it was his duty. Friendship she would need to find elsewhere.

  Honora lifted and cradled the sleeping pup to her breast. “He will be my friend.”

  Cavan scowled to a stand. “I should return him to his mother so he can feed.”

  “I will take him.”

  “No,” Cavan snapped. “Do your stitching, I will see to the pup.”

  “I would prefer to take him myself,” she said, moving out of reach of his helping hand as she struggled to stand with the pup.

  Cavan stepped forward, grabbed her around the waist and pulled her up. She stumbled against him and he held her firm, never disturbing the sleeping pup.

  “The weather has turned cold—”

  “A little cold will not bother me,” she said, and moved away from him.