She felt safe with him?
The thought jarred his heart, and he almost shook his head denying the notion. It was pure nonsense and he was a fool for even giving it thought. What did it matter if she felt safe with him or not? She was his wife and that was that.
Then why had the thought that she trusted him enough to feel safe with him nudge at his heart?
“You do intend to teach me more, don’t you?” she asked hopefully.
He leaned closer to her. “What do you want to learn?”
“You mentioned riding, and I’d like to become proficient with weapons.”
He coughed a laugh. “Weapons?”
She nodded vigorously.
“Any weapon in particular?”
“A dirk and perhaps a bow and arrow. I don’t know about a sword.”
Cavan laughed aloud. “And here I thought I had wed a mousy woman with not an ounce of courage. You do surprise me.”
“I surprise myself,” she admitted with a bit of reluctance. “You have shown me I am capable of more than I believed and I am grateful to you for that, and I look forward to learning more.”
“Careful, I may teach you more than you want to know.”
She shook her head. “I have tasted knowledge and wish to learn more, everything I can.”
“Everything? That requires a very long time.”
“We are husband and wife,” she said. “We have our entire lives together.”
It sounded as if she looked forward to a life with him, and he suddenly grew disturbed and walked a few feet away from her. He rubbed his chin, staring over the empty moor spreading out before him, and settled his glance on the keep resting high on the hill in the distance. He could not allow his wife, an actual stranger to him, to interfere with his plans. First and foremost he had to find his brother Ronan. He could not live, laugh, and enjoy life to the fullest until Ronan was safe. It was his duty, and he would not rest until he had seen it done.
“We should return,” he said, swerving around to face her.
She was busy bouncing around happily with the yapping little pup, paying him no heed. He almost gave a second thought to depriving her of her joy, but then the image of his brother reaching out to him with fear in his eyes assaulted him and he walked over to Honora and grabbed her arm.
“Time to go,” he said, dragging her along with him while the pup nipped at his heels.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, her steps finally matching his.
“There are things I need to attend to.”
“I thought we might spend more time together.”
“Tomorrow we will resume your lessons,” he said, and scooped up the pup, shoving him into her arms. “Take him to our bedchamber and rest.”
“I don’t want to rest.”
“Regardless, you will,” he said sternly.
They didn’t exchange another word on the remainder of their walk, and then, after ordering her once again to their bedchamber, Cavan left her side in search of his father.
Honora didn’t understand what had happened. They were having a good time together, talking and playing with the pup. They had seemed a pair, two people who cared for each other. Especially after yesterday when he’d gotten so upset over her taking ill and remained with her even when his mother urged him to leave the care to her. And it hadn’t been duty that held him there; it was something else, something she saw in his eyes and had seen on other occasions. It was that something that had made her regard him in a different light.
His own words had confirmed what she was beginning to realize—that her husband was a man with a good heart, who cared deeply for those he loved and would do anything for them, even giving his own life to save them.
Honora wandered over to the fireplace in the great hall. Champion curled up at her feet and was asleep in seconds. She poured herself a tankard of warm cider from the pitcher on the table and settled in with her thoughts.
Cavan believed himself responsible for everyone, and as future laird she supposed in a sense that was true. But his brothers had been trained for battle too, and all warriors accepted the possibility of capture or death when in combat. She recalled tales of Cavan’s courage and his many victories, and she’d heard the gossip that the barbarians only captured him because he remained behind in search of his brother while ordering the others to retreat.
The only one who blamed Cavan for Ronan’s capture was Cavan.
She wanted to help her husband; after all, she was stuck with him. She was his wife for the rest of their lives, and because he was a good man, she knew that somehow they could have a good marriage. He had made it known he wanted children, and children entailed intimacy.
Honora sipped at the cider. She would need to make certain they spent more time together. It was good that he was giving her lessons in protecting herself, and she would make sure that they shared meals together and took walks and talked. They needed to truly be husband and wife.
She couldn’t have said as much yesterday. Her thinking had changed, and not just because of Cavan’s actions. Addie’s remark had made an impression on her too. If Cavan’s mother could detect a caring between them, then perhaps there really was a chance for them to have a loving marriage and not just an arranged one. That it was even a thought, a possibility, amazed her. She never imagined that she might care for Cavan. He had been rude and abrupt when they first met.
A giggle tickled her throat. She was young then. He had saved her, so in truth it wasn’t twice he’d saved her but three times. Next time she would need to make certain that she saved herself, if only to show him that he’d taught her well, for since that day on the moors she had been careful where her steps took her.
“Are you feeling well?”
Honora looked up to see Addie holding a plate of honey cakes. She licked her lips. “Even if I wasn’t I wouldn’t turn down a honey cake.”
“A daughter after my own heart,” Addie said, placed the plate on the table and took a seat on the bench opposite her.
Addie had made her feel welcome from the first moment she was introduced to her. Addie had referred to her as her daughter, even before the wedding. She’d accepted her unconditionally, and Honora was grateful to once again have a loving mother.
“I thought to find Cavan with you,” Addie said. “I saw that you headed out for the moors and thought to welcome you both back with a treat.”
“Cavan searches for his father.”
Addie frowned. “Is something wrong?”
Honora shrugged. “I don’t believe so. We were having a joyous time when he suddenly insisted we return to the keep, where he went in search of his father.”
Addie shook her head. “My son shoulders more responsibilities than is necessary.”
“And blames himself needlessly.”
Addie sighed with relief. “You understand.”
“I believe I am beginning to. At first—”
“You thought you were stuck with a terrible husband.”
“I—I—”
Addie laughed and patted her hand. “It’s all right, dear, Cavan wasn’t pleasant to you upon his return.”
“He did have good reason, returning to find himself married to a woman he had once rejected.”
“You defend him, that is good,” Addie said with a smile. “A husband needs a wife who will stand by him.”
A crash and loud, angry voices made both women jump to their feet, and the pup shook the sleep out of him and now looked alert.
The squabbling grew until it spilled into the great hall.
“If you do not have the courage to do it, I will,” Cavan shouted at his father, who preceded him into the room.
Tavish Sinclare stopped abruptly and swerved to face his son. “How dare you disrespect me? I am the leader of this clan and you will show me the respect I not only deserve, but earned.”
“Then prove it and allow me to take an army of warriors and attack the barbarians.”
“No. I will not
send my warriors on a senseless mission,” Tavish argued.
“Is it senseless to rescue your son?” Cavan challenged.
Honora almost gasped. Addie did. Cavan had no right speaking to his father that way.
“Pride loses battles. Remember that when you become laird or you will jeopardize the safety of the clan and our lands. As for my son? Either I will find him or he will return home, for he is a warrior like his brother and will do the clan proud.”
Tavish turned his back on his son and walked out of the keep. Addie followed him.
Cavan angrily descended on Honora. “I ordered you to rest.”
The pup yapped at his irate approach.
“Quiet!” Cavan snapped harshly.
The pup ran for cover under Honora’s skirt, but got in one last yap.
“Do not take your temper out on my friend,” Honora said sharply.
“Then I will take it out on you. You were ordered to rest—”
“I am not tired.”
“That makes no difference.”
“It does to me,” she said.
Cavan grabbed a tankard off the table and slammed it down hard, cider spilling over the sides. “You will do as I say or else.”
“Or else what?” she asked bravely.
He stared at her, speechless.
Her heart beating wildly, Honora scooped up the pup, tossed her chin up, and stepped around her irate husband. “I have things to do,” she said and walked away. She wanted to hurry her steps, to retreat from her husband as fast as she could, but kept her steps steady, knowing it would do her no good to show fear. If there was one thing Cavan had taught her, it was not to panic and allow your foe to sense your fear.
Honora paraded out of the great hall with a confidence she did not possess, but rather with legs that trembled so badly she thought surely she would crumble to the floor before she reached the door. When she did reach the door, she grabbed hold of the thick wood and steadied herself, took a breath and whispered to Champion, “We made it.”
“Honora!”
She didn’t bother to turn and respond to her husband’s shout, but quickly vacated the hall and hurried as far from the keep as her wobbling legs would carry her.
She wound up behind the stable, tucked between two barrels. She wrapped her cloak around herself and the pup, grateful that she’d had enough sense to grab it as she left the hall. The pup settled contentedly in the niche her raised legs provided and took the opportunity to clean his paws.
But Honora remained alert, concerned that her husband would come in search of her and…
Or else.
The two little words stayed with her, and try as she might, she could not shed them. She wondered what he would do now that she’d refused to obey him. And what of her stepfather? Would he dare to confront her over her callous disregard for her husband?
It mattered little at the moment for the deed had been done. She had taken a stand and now must face the consequences. Addie had only just praised her about standing beside her husband. It proved to be short-lived praise. She had openly defied Cavan, and tongues were sure to spread the news.
Had she been mistaken? Had she been too hasty? Too angry?
This wifely duty was much too new to her, and particularly with Cavan. In contrast, she had been comfortable with Artair, mainly because he was honest with her.
Artair.
She scrambled to her feet and hurried to deposit the pup in the stable with the other pups. Then she went in search of Artair.
Chapter 18
Honora found him working in the blacksmith hut. He was shirtless, his bare chest shimmering with sweat while he hammered away at the red hot tip of a sword laid flat on an anvil. She couldn’t help but compare him to her husband. Where Cavan was thick with muscle, Artair was lean and sinewy, defined and sculpted like a marble statue, though not cold and aloof like marble or like his brother could be at times. Artair was affable, his smile genuine, his nature pragmatic. He was a dependable and reasonable man, one easy to converse with. He had been honest about what he expected from her as a wife and made her feel as comfortable as possible with their forthcoming marriage arrangement.
When Artair saw her, he gave the sword one last hammer and then shoved the tip into the rain barrel, steam rising off the water before he deposited the weapon on a nearby worktable.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because we have barely exchanged more than salutations between us since you wed my brother.”
“My fault,” she admitted. “I cannot say it has been easy adjusting to the sudden change in my situation.”
“I am sorry for that.”
Honora smiled. “It wasn’t your fault, though I felt I lost a good husband.”
He laughed. “You’re so sure of that?”
Honora nodded firmly. “You will make a woman a fine husband one day. She will be lucky to have you.”
“And I will be lucky if she possesses half the good nature that you do. Actually, your pleasant temperament is what made the arrangement so appealing, but by now my brother must realize his good fortune in having you as a wife.”
Honora shrugged. “I’m not sure how your brother feels. I thought perhaps you could help me to understand him better.”
“I wish I could understand him better myself.” Artair shook his head. “He is different since his return. He keeps himself removed from most everyone. We don’t talk as much as we once did.”
“It sounds as if you miss your brother.”
“I do,” he said.
“Have you tried speaking with him?”
“Obviously you came to me with concern for my brother, yet you are advising me on my concerns. You are a thoughtful woman, Honora.” He winked playfully at her. “Perhaps I was foolish to let you go so easily.”
“Perhaps you should respect the fact that she is your brother’s wife.”
Honora and Artair turned to see Cavan, his hands fisted at his sides.
“Artair was only teasing,” Honora said.
“Let him find his own woman to tease,” Cavan said, his dark eyes steady on his brother.
“I meant no disrespect,” Artair apologized.
Honora was not well acquainted with men and their peculiarities, but she was certain that friction sizzled between the two. It seemed if she didn’t separate them soon, an altercation would ensue.
“Make sure you don’t,” Cavan warned unnecessarily.
Artair made a civil attempt to lighten the atmosphere. “Remember that it’s through my generosity that you have such a wonderful wife.”
Cavan took a sharp step forward, and Honora, without thinking, stepped between the two men.
“I am feeling rather tired. Would you walk me back to the keep?”
Artair’s glare remained locked with his brother’s. “I’ll be right here if you have anything else to say to me.”
Honora slipped her arm around her husband’s and gave a light tug. “Actually, I could use a hot brew. I’m feeling quite chilled.” She forced a shiver to prove her point.
“We’ll talk later,” he said to his brother.
“I’d like that,” Artair said, and turned to shove the sword he’d been working on into the fiery ambers.
Honora waited until they were a distance away from the blacksmith hut to say, “Artair is a good man.”
“Unfortunately, you’re stuck with me as a husband, and you can thank your stepfather for that.”
“You’re right,” she said, her head cast down as they walked along the pitted path to the keep.
Cavan’s head snapped around to glare at her.
She raised her head and was quick to correct his misunderstanding. “You’re right about my stepfather being at fault, not about me being stuck with you. I don’t feel stuck with you. I am freer with you than with my stepfather. You don’t confine me, and I appreciate that.”
“False praise or gratitude will get you
nowhere with me.”
Honora was stunned by his caustic accusations and his assumption. “You think I lie?”
“Manipulate,” he corrected.
“I do not,” she said, halting their tracks.
His laugh was more a sneer. “All women do.”
“I am not all women,” she said, and stepped away from him, insulted.
His laughter was cut short by a shout that had him spinning around.
“You sonofabitch!” Lachlan yelled. “How dare you disrespect Father!”
Lachlan launched himself at Cavan, and fists flew and their bodies staggered before tumbling to the ground in an all out altercation. Honora stood staring speechless at the two warring brothers, then recovered enough to run to get help from Artair. Not that it did any good. Artair arrived to stand with arms crossed, watching his brothers battle it out. Her pleas to make them stop fighting were cut short when he informed her, “They need this. Let them be.”
People gathered to cheer the brothers on. Blood began to spew from both combatants’ mouths, and that was enough for Honora, who turned to leave.
Artair grabbed her arm. “You should remain and show support for your husband.”
“I will not watch them battle each other senseless.”
He laughed. “I suspect they will battle sense into each other.”
“Then let them. I have no stomach for such idiocy.” She stomped off and went straight to the sewing room, wanting nothing more than to forget the two fools fighting like children on the ground.
After discarding her cloak haphazardly on a chair, she paced in front of the fireplace. She didn’t understand men and didn’t know if she wanted to. She would much prefer to find a solitary spot in the woods, erect a cottage, and live there contentedly.
Her heartbeat quickened and she stopped pacing, but then wrung her hands together with nervous concern. The thought of being separated from her husband had jolted her. She unwittingly found herself attracted to him, caring about him, considering a good life with him. She wouldn’t want to lose that. Perhaps that was why the fight disturbed her. She didn’t want to see her husband hurt, in pain, or for a rift occur between brothers that could not be mended, and she felt helpless as to how she might prevent any of it.
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