Return of the Rogue

by Donna Fletcher

  “The hell he did,” Lachlan protested.

  “Think about it, son,” Tavish said. “Remember that mare that my stallion birthed and how it was intended for you?”

  Lachlan nodded. “Yes, but she was not what I wanted so I let Ronan have her.”

  Tavish laughed. “Ronan talked you out of wanting her.”

  “He did not—” Lachlan stopped abruptly. “Damn it, he did.” He pointed to Artair. “He talked you out of that sword you had specially made—”

  “He did not,” Artair objected.

  Lachlan nodded firmly. “He did, claimed it was too light for a man of your strength.”

  Artair glared at his brother. “Damn, you’re right. He convinced me that it didn’t suit me at all. What of you, Cavan? What did Ronan get from you?”

  “Nothing,” Honora said. “Ronan respected his position as leader and knew that as such it wouldn’t be wise to play tricks on him.”

  “You’re very perceptive, Honora,” Tavish said.

  “It is easy to see when you look from the outside in,” she said.

  Tavish reached out, placed his hand over hers on the table and smiled. “You’re on the inside now, so be careful.”

  “I have no worries,” she admittedly freely. “I trust you all.”

  Cavan couldn’t get over how freely she admitted her trust for them. She spoke confidently without an ounce of doubt, and he envied her.

  Conversation turned light again, and then it was time to tend to daily chores and matters and she and Cavan left the hall. They walked toward the stable, a yapping Champion trailing along behind.

  Cavan took her hand, needing to ask her a question that disturbed him. “You left something out about Ronan and me. Something else you observed from the tales my brothers and I told.”

  “Did I?” she asked with an innocence he doubted.

  He stopped and glared at her, his stern expression making it clear that they would not move until she answered him.

  “You know me too well,” she protested half-heartedly.

  “You would do well to remember that,” he said, and kissed her quick. “Tell me.”

  “I feared it would upset you.”

  “That makes little difference. I want to know that you will always be honest with me, that you will never fear confiding anything in me. I will always be there to help you, and I will never betray you.”

  She smiled softly. “Trust. You’re asking for my trust, which I have already given you. That is what your brother knew. That he could always count on you, trust that you would never betray him.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “From the story you told about how you and Ronan had accidentally fallen in the loch while catching fish. That wasn’t how it happened. I would say it was you who had caught all the fish and Ronan was angry that he’d caught none, and you offered to split the catch with him, which angered him even more. He shoved you or scuffled with you and probably stumbled and fell in the loch and you jumped in after him.”

  “What makes you believe that?”

  “Because you admitted to me that you always protected Ronan, and besides, he was so young. What? Barely six?”

  “Two days from his sixth birthday,” Cavan said.

  “And Artair mentioned you’re seven years older than Ronan, which would have made you thirteen at the time.” She shook her head. “The story you concocted makes no sense.”

  “That is what my father said.”

  She laughed. “But not your brothers.”

  “And I suppose you know why?”

  She grinned. “They were pleased to see the mighty leader not only take a foolish fall, but not catch a single fish. You let Ronan take the credit because he was probably upset and regretted his actions with a plethora of tears. While in truth that day you proved to your little brother that he could forever trust you.”

  Cavan nodded, released her hand and walked away.

  She quickly followed, reclaiming his hand. “You did not fail your brother.”

  He wished he could believe that, but he couldn’t, and no one understood that, nor did he think they ever would.

  “We’ll go riding on the moors today,” he told her.

  “Cavan,” she said with a tug to his hand.

  He stopped. “No more about Ronan. It is done.”

  She looked ready to disagree.

  “Not another word, Honora,” he said sternly.

  She sighed and looked away. “I have little experience riding.”

  “You did well last night,” he teased.

  She turned with a smile and puffed out her chest. “I certainly did, but then you’re an easy one to tame.” She laughed and ran off toward the stable.

  He chased after her, grinning.

  Chapter 25

  Honora couldn’t believe how happy she was. In the two weeks since she and Cavan had become intimate, life was simply wonderful. They laughed, they kissed, they loved, while her husband gave her lessons in all sorts of things, including making love. She felt her cheeks redden from the cherished memories, but more so with the love for him that was growing stronger in her heart each day. And she let him know of her love often, even though he had yet to tell her the same. She knew without a doubt that he did and in time would speak the words to her. She’d be patient, and why not? Every day with him was amazing.

  She shivered, a sudden chill descending over her, and her bright smile faded to a frown. Her joy actually frightened her. She feared somehow it would disappear, or worse, that she would be robbed of it. She pressed her hand to her chest, imagining the dreadful pain she would feel if Cavan were ever taken away from her. She could not bear it.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked claiming the bench opposite her, where she sat in front of the hearth.

  Her smile returned when he gently peeled her hand away from her chest and kissed her palm. He was so very handsome, and grew more handsome by the day, but then, of course, she had heard that love did that to you, sharpened your sight for the one you loved. And while she could certainly extol his striking features, they weren’t, in her opinion, what made him handsome. It was his loving, giving, caring heart that made her love him so very much, and while he refused to acknowledge that part of himself, she had no trouble doing so.

  “Are you feeling ill?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No. I feel fine.”

  “Something troubles you. I watched your brilliant smile fade and your hand press your chest as if in pain.”

  She had no trouble confessing the truth to him. “I am so very happy with you—”

  “Then what brought the frown?”

  “Fear of losing you, being robbed of you.” She shrugged helplessly. “I cannot bear to think of life without you.”

  He kissed her palm again, then firmly squeezed her hand. “Then don’t. We have a whole life together to share. I would go to the ends of the earth and fight the devil himself to get you back. I will let nothing separate us.”

  “Cavan!”

  Honora and Cavan turned at Artair’s shout.

  “Barbarians attack farms to the east. Father remains here. You, Lachlan, and I ride.”

  Honora stood and followed her husband to see him off. Before he mounted his horse, she grabbed hold of his arm. “You come back to me safe and sound, husband, and I promise you a welcome you will never forget.”

  Cavan scooped her up against him, kissed her soundly and whispered in her ear, “That promise will have me home in no time.”

  “I will have the fire burning and food aplenty so we don’t have to leave the bedchamber for a whole day.”

  He grinned, planted a sloppy, wet kiss on her lips, released her and mounted his horse.

  “I love you,” she said, her hand at his ankle, holding onto him as long as possible. “Stay well.” She backed away and stood watching him ride off. She had thought for a moment he would respond in kind. He looked ready to, but then stopped.

  She wasn’t sure what p
revented him from admitting his love for her, but knew deep down in her soul that he did. She could see it in his dark eyes. They glistened whenever she professed her love, softened, then turned turbulent. She knew that’s when he fought himself and refused to utter a word of love. Instead he would show her with a kiss, a touch, or if the turbulence turned heavy, he would make love to her.

  She hugged her waist and smiled. It was then that he showed her how much he truly loved her.

  Honora waved until he was out of sight, as was her way each time he rode off to battle. She wanted him to know that she would always be there waiting for him to return.

  “You two do well together.”

  Honora turned and greeted Tavish Sinclare with a warm smile. “Yes, we do, and glad I am to have him as a husband.”

  “That is good to hear,” Tavish said, and held his arm out to her. “Walk with me, I wish to talk with you.”

  Honora hooked her arm around his, knowing she could not refuse the laird, though he intimidated her a bit. She couldn’t say why since he was a fair and pleasant man and spoke kindly to everyone. Perhaps it was the commanding quality about him, which demanded attention and respect. She waited for him to speak.

  They walked a distance without saying a word, and Honora realized he was moving them away from prying eyes and ears. Not that many villagers lurked about, the cold, blustery day keeping many inside, while the warriors who remained behind were busy guarding the village and the keep.

  When no one was near, Tavish finally spoke. “Has Cavan spoken to you of his capture?”

  Honora hesitated, unsure how to answer. Did she keep her husband’s confidence and refuse to answer, or did she obey her laird and betray her husband?

  She shook her head, her answer easy. “My husband talks with me in confidence.”

  “I respect that,” Tavish said. “But something disturbs me. Like you, I listen when people talk. It is a good rule to follow for you learn much that way. I have listened to my son Cavan, and I believe there is something about his capture that he purposely does not share, and I don’t believe it has anything to do with Ronan.”

  “He speaks mostly of Ronan to me,” she admitted freely.

  “Then he keeps this from you as well.”

  “You believe he keeps a secret from everyone?”

  Tavish nodded.

  “Why would he do that?” she asked, curious.

  “I’ve asked the same myself. What would make him keep a secret from everyone in his family?”

  They both stopped walking, and Honora gave thought to his question when the answer suddenly hit her like a slap in the face. She turned wide-eyes on Tavish.

  “Cavan does what he has always done. He protects.”

  Tavish nodded, his smile growing. “At first I thought perhaps his captivity had made him mistrustful of everyone. But then, as you knew immediately, I realized that Cavan was who he always was, a warrior who protected his family and clan at all cost. He protects. Whatever he knows, I believe that he fears sharing it could prove dangerous.”

  “He will realize soon enough that family will help, and then he will confide in someone,” Honora said reassuringly.

  “You have unerring belief in your husband, and that will serve him well when he is laird. It is good that you wed him instead of Artair.”

  “Why?”

  “You and Cavan fit as if you were made for each other.”

  “But Cavan rejected Calum’s first offer of a union between us, and I assumed you agreed,” she said, perplexed.

  Tavish nodded. “I did. You weren’t ready yet, but in time I knew you would be. I watched you grow and knew you were a courageous one, and sharp-witted. You had to be since your lot in life was not easy.”

  Honora was shocked. “I never thought you noticed me.”

  “I know all in my clan; I must. When I am asked to settle disputes I must be familiar with those who lie and those who speak the truth. I must be aware of the weak so they are protected, and I must understand the misunderstood for they often prove great warriors, like you.”

  “I am honored—”

  “Nonsense. You earned respect, and it is I who am honored to have you as my daughter.”

  She threw her arms around the large man without thinking and hugged him tightly. “Thank you, Father.” He was the closest she had to a real father, she thought. If her father had lived, surely he would have been as wonderful and kind as Tavish Sinclare.

  He returned her hug, though had to pry her away gently. “I believe if we work together, we may be able to find out the secret my son keeps and help him.”

  “I agree,” she said, nodding vigorously.

  “Good. I feel better knowing someone shares this burden with me. My son is a good man, a great warrior, and will make a better laird than me. I am proud of him and would do anything to see that he no longer suffered.” Tavish wrapped Honora’s arm around his. “We have a secret, daughter; we share with no one until the time is right.”

  “Agreed,” she said with a final nod.

  A few hours later Honora was in the stables feeding the pups. Champion would return with her to the keep, but she would see him settled by the hearth in the great hall, his usual spot in the evening. Cavan had made it known that he didn’t want the pup in their bedchamber, and she understood why and agreed. Besides, the pup did not mind at all since Addie spoiled him at night with snacks and a walk.

  Honora had made it her chore to make certain that the pups, weaned from their mother, were fed scraps from the kitchen until they were capable of foraging on their own. While lost in her chore, she thought of Cavan and hoped he was safe and that he would return soon, but she doubted an early return. He could be gone days, though she hoped not weeks.

  She just finished with the pups when a large shadow fell over her and she turned with a start ready to defend herself. She was shocked to see her husband in the doorway, blocking out what little daylight was available, the skies having darkened with storm clouds. Terror gripped her when she spotted heavy splatters of blood on his hands, face, shirt, and legs.

  Her legs trembled but she moved quickly and was at his side in seconds. “Are you all right?” She didn’t let him answer, grabbing hold of his arm. “Come let me get you to the keep and see to your wounds.”

  He wouldn’t budge; he remained solid where he stood.

  “Cavan,” she said softly. “Let me help you.” She noticed that his sword still dripped with blood, and she couldn’t fathom the carnage that must have taken place. “Cavan…” she repeated.

  Still he did not respond.

  She placed a tender hand to his blood-covered cheek and almost sighed with relief when she realized the blood wasn’t his, for there was no wound. His dark eyes were glazed and hard and unrecognizable. It was as if she touched a stranger, so cold was his glare.

  He grabbed her around the waist so quickly and unexpectedly that she gave a shout, and when he lifted her up against him and ground his lips against hers, she became frightened. That fright grew as he rushed with her in his arms to the back of the stable and shoved her against the wall, his hand hoisting up her skirt and reaching roughly between her legs.

  He smelled of sweat and blood, and her fear escalated.

  She wasn’t sure what to do, and when his fingers dug intimately into her, she grabbed his face and stared into his dark eyes. “I love you, Cavan. I love you so much.”

  It was as if she had thrown a bucket of cold water on him. His eyes lost their glare, his hand slipped from under her skirt, and his forehead fell to rest against hers.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “so very sorry.”

  “It’s all right. I’m all right. We’re all right.”

  He moved to release her but she refused to let him go. She clung tightly to him.

  “I’m no better than a bar—”

  “You are a man seeking redemption from the carnage of battle.”

  “How could you say that after what I was about to do to yo
u?” he asked incredulously.

  “Because the only redemption is love, and you sought out the one person who could give you that unconditionally—your wife who loves you beyond measure.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t deserve you.”

  “I deserve you,” she confirmed. “And I want you. I want to love you.” She slipped her hand beneath his plaid and felt the familiar swell of him. He was so thick and hard that she thought he was probably hurting for release.

  “Honora,” he said on a harsh breath.

  “Take me here and now,” she demanded, her breath heavy at his ear.

  He shook his head. “I fear I will hurt you.”

  “I fear you already hurt.”

  He growled deep in his chest. “For the want of you. I left the men after I felled the last barbarian with my sword and rode directly back here to you, knowing you’d be here waiting for me, wanting me, loving me.”

  “Then love me here and now. Slip into me and let me ride you strong and hard so we both may release the hurt and pain that consumes us.”

  He protested with a groan and a shake of his head.

  She responded by hoisting herself up just enough for the tip of him to snuggle between her legs. “Take me,” she urged, and tried to slip him inside her.

  It was enough to force a response, and he lifted her and settled himself with one deep thrust inside her. She cried out in pleasure, tossing her head back against the wall while holding onto his shoulders. He continued to plunge in and out, in and out, until her cries turned to pleas as she built toward a climax she was certain would kill her, though she didn’t care.

  The wall behind her creaked as he shoved into her hard and heavy, the odor of blood and sweat disappearing, swallowed by the distinct scent of their lovemaking. She was completely lost in unbridled passion, and dug her fingers into his flesh as her climax built to an uncontrollable force. It erupted with such fury that she screamed out like she never had before.

  She thought she was spent, but her husband had yet to finish, and the driving force of his thrusts soon swept her up again, to her shock and pleasure. When Cavan climaxed with a roar of his own, she did so as well and smiled with sheer joy.