Loved By a Warrior

by Donna Fletcher

  “You must remain silent,” he whispered, and her head quickly shot up, her eyes growing wide. “We’re at the croft, and so are others.”

  She motioned for him to put her down, and he did so very gently. He took her hand and guided her to a spot amongst the trees where they had a good view of the farm. She limped, and he worried that the brief respite had not helped her ankle. But there was nothing he could do for her at the moment. He had to help Old Jacob.

  He kept hold of her hand, and, surprisingly, she didn’t object, as they both peered through the branches. What he saw infuriated him. And if he was not mistaken the four soldiers who tormented Old Jacob were the same ones that had passed by him this morning. His anger had him fisting his hands. A tiny wince drew his attention, and when he turned, he saw that Tara was biting down on her lower lip to stop from yelling. He remembered then that her hand was in his.

  He immediately released it and pressed his cheek to hers, whispering in her ear, “I’m sorry.”

  “I understand,” she murmured. “You must hurry and help him.”

  “Stay here.”

  She nodded vigorously.

  Reeve was relieved that she didn’t protest and would heed his order. He left her safely tucked amongst towering pines and thick bushes.

  He didn’t hide his approach. After all, there were only four of them. He could dispatch them without a problem though he would not do so until he made them pay for the taunting slaps and punches they were inflicting on Old Jacob. He was a feeble man of five-and-seventy years, hunched over from age and hard toil and didn’t deserve such harsh treatment or disrespect.

  “Leave him be,” Reeve shouted, his anger having grown with each step.

  The men stopped and turned, and when they saw that he approached alone, they laughed.

  “Are you a fool?” one asked.

  “Are you a coward?” Reeve shot back. “You taunt an old man who can do you no harm?”

  The soldier advanced on Reeve, his face flushed red, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Reeve not only had the advantage of strength on his side, but speed as well. He rushed the man and elbowed him so hard in the jaw that the crack could be heard by all as the man dropped to the ground. With precise swings and substantial punches, Reeve finished off the remaining four men.

  He immediately went to Jacob, who was struggling to stand.

  “Willow,” Reeve asked, concerned for Jacob’s granddaughter-in-law.

  “Root cellar,” Jacob said with a bloody smile. “I’ll not let anything happen to her.”

  “I didn’t think you would.” Reeve helped the old man up to sit on the well-worn bench by the door. “Stay put until I get rid of them.”

  Jacob nodded, slowly cupping his elbow in his hand.

  Reeve grew more annoyed seeing that the old man had suffered far too much and for no reason. He withdrew his sword and began poking the soldiers as they starting coming to with groans.

  “Get up!” Reeve yelled repeatedly, as they struggled to get to their feet. The one whose jaw he had broken had the most difficulty standing. “Go help the idiot,” Reeve ordered the first man who finally made it to his feet, and poked him with the tip of his sword to get him moving.

  “You’ll suffer the consequences for this,” another said as he stumbled to his feet.

  “The only ones who will suffer any consequences are the four of you if you don’t leave MacAlpin land immediately. And if you don’t understand consequence, let me enlighten you. I will see you all dead by morning if you do not take your leave of MacAlpin land now!”

  “The king owns all land,” one soldier shouted.

  “The king owns nothing. He owes everything to his people,” Reeve said. “Now be gone with you before I regret how lenient I’ve been.”

  The four leaned on each other as they hobbled to their horses.

  A thought struck Reeve. “Leave one horse.”

  The soldiers looked angry and argued among themselves over who would lose his horse, until Reeve ordered, “Leave the gray mare.”

  They did, riding off mumbling.

  “Cowards the lot of them,” Jacob said, and spat.

  Reeve agreed with a nod, then turned to Jacob. “Are you all right?”

  “Nothing that won’t heal,” Jacob assured him. “You’ll be staying the night at least, won’t you?”

  “I had hoped to since I have a woman with me who needs tending, and we could do with some food.”

  Jacob had trouble getting up off the bench, but he brushed away Reeve’s offered hand. “My bones may be protesting, but that’s too bad for them. They’ll be doing what I want, or I’ll not give them a lick of rest. Now go get your friend and bring her here. Willow will see to her, and she already has a tasty stew cooking.”

  Reeve did as ordered and went and got Tara. He was pleased that she had waited where he had left her. He scooped her up though she protested and had her inside the cottage to find Jacob struggling to lift the door to the root cellar.

  Reeve quickly set Tara on a chair and lifted the door before Jacob could object.

  “It’s all right, Willow, you can come out now,” Jacob called down.

  A slim woman of medium height, with fiery red curls piled wildly on top of her head and a lovely face, though unfortunately marred by a thin scar that ran across her left cheek, practically leapt out of the cellar.

  “Are you all right, grandda?” she asked, going directly to him though acknowledging Reeve as she did. “Glad you came along, Reeve.”

  “You both truly need to move to the village, for a while at least,” Reeve said. ”The king’s soldiers are suddenly showing a strong presence in this area.”

  Willow carefully examined the old man’s injuries. “Grandda will not leave his land, and I will not leave him.”

  “No more of this talk,” Jacob ordered. “We have a guest who is injured.”

  Willow looked to Reeve, then to Tara. “What is wrong?’

  “A sprained ankle, no more,” Tara said. “See to your grandda first.”

  Willow ignored the old man’s protests that their guest be seen to first and went and filled a bucket with snow and sat it on the hearth to melt and heat. She gathered stripes of clean cloth and grabbed a handful of herbs that hung in bunches from the ceiling rafters.

  While Willow was busy tending her grandda, Reeve helped Tara out of her cloak. His hand went to her arm, her elbow, her back as he moved her around to slip it off her. When done, he realized the cold had seeped deep into her flesh. He moved a chair near the hearth, scooped her up, though she squeaked in protest, and sat her there to warm.

  “There’s cider in the pitcher on the table,” Willow said. “Put it on the hearthstone and let it heat, then pour a tankard for each of yourselves.”

  Reeve did as Willow had directed, and in a few minutes, he and Tara were warming their innards with the tasty apple cider.

  “Now, are you finally going to introduce us?” Willow asked, almost finished with her grandda.

  Reeve shook his head for not having done it sooner. “This is Tara, she’ll be joining the MacAlpin clan.”

  “Welcome,” Willow said, her smile growing.

  “It’s a good clan you join,” the old man said. “You’ll be safe, especially with Reeve at your side.”

  “We are not together,” Reeve and Tara said in unison.

  Willow and the old man laughed.

  “We’re friends,” Tara said, though she blushed.

  “That’s how my Edward and I started,” Willow said with a hint of sadness. “We were friends first and fell in love along the way.”

  “God bless my grandson’s soul,” Jacob said with a nod. “He’s gone two years now.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Tara said.

  “Edward was a good friend and a good man,” Reeve added.

  “Died saving my life he did,” Willow said, turning away as a tear fell from her eye.

  Silence followed until finally Reeve spoke. “J
acob, you and Willow need to come to the village until the true king takes the throne.”

  Jacob waved away Reeve’s plea. “Who knows when that will be? I leave my farm, and it will go to rot, and I chance losing my land.”

  Reeve wished he could share what he knew with the old man, but he couldn’t. The plans that were being made had to remain secret, for the safety of many and for the success of the true king. If things continued as they were, it would be less than a year before the true king could possibly sit the throne. And as matters deteriorated for the present king, they would also worsen for the true king’s supporters. Meaning life could prove more dangerous for Jacob and Willow.

  “Stay, and you could lose your life, you old, stubborn fool,” Willow said with more care than malice.

  Jacob pounded the table. “I won’t leave my land.”

  Willow shook her head and looked to Reeve. “I cannot leave him here on his own.”

  “I will talk with my brothers and see what can be done,” Reeve said.

  Willow drifted over to Tara, and Reeve moved out of her way, going to sit next to the old man and talk.

  Getting the boot off proved difficult, and Willow called out for Reeve’s help.

  “I can do it,” Tara said, persistent in her struggle with the boot.

  Reeve pushed her hands away and slipped his hand up her calf along the underside of the boot; his other hand took hold of her heel. Then he began to ease the boot back and forth gently, his hand following its descent down along her stocking-covered calf. After a few minutes of tugs and urgings, the boot slipped off with only a modicum of difficulty.

  He kept hold of her stocking-covered leg, staring at the area swollen twice its size. “No more walking for you,” he ordered, and before she could object, he explained. “One of the soldiers gladly left a horse.”

  Tara simply grinned, and Reeve gently released her ankle and returned to sit with Jacob.

  “Reeve is a good man,” Willow said for their ears alone.

  “Yes, I find him an honorable one,” Tara agreed, rolling her stocking down.

  “It’s odd,” Willow said, “but you seem a good pair, familiar with each other, as though you belong together.”

  “That’s foolish. We’ve only met.”

  “Yet you appear more than friends,” Willow said, carefully removing the black stocking.

  “It’s just that we seem to understand each other.”

  “It was like that between Edward and me. We met when we were young, and we seemed to fit, as if we were two matching pieces who found their way back together. We understood each other and”—she laughed softly—“I fit in his arms perfectly, as if God intended me just for Edward.”

  Willow tenderly probed the swollen area. “I’ll fetch some snow, and we’ll pack it around your ankle. I don’t feel any broken bones, and I doubt you could have walked a distance if you had broken any.”

  Willow had Reeve move Tara away from the hearth before she packed the snow around the ankle so that the heat wouldn’t melt it.

  Reeve grabbed his extra plaid and wrapped it around Tara. “For the chill that surely will follow.” He leaned down to tuck it in snugly at her waist, and as he did, his cheek grazed hers. It was warm and flushed from sitting near the fire. His cheek had chilled, and it was like fire and ice coming together, it scorched and melted. He felt the sting all the way to his loins.

  He stood rather abruptly. “I better see to the horse.”

  “I’ll help you,” Jacob said, easing off the chair.

  “No need.”

  “Nothing for me to do here,” Jacob grumbled.

  “Then do join me,” Reeve said, realizing that the old man didn’t want to be left with the two women.

  It had been a long time since Tara had sat in conversation with another woman, and she didn’t know what to say. She needn’t have worried, Willow felt the same, but didn’t let it stop her from talking.

  “It has been far too long since I have had the opportunity to speak with another woman. Once this area was thriving with farms, and neighbors visited often. But when King Kenneth claimed the throne, he made heavy demands on the farmers, and it forced many to abandon their places.”

  “You stayed?”

  “As you’ve heard, grandda refuses to leave, and I can understand why. His family has farmed this land since long before he was born. They have survived wars and nature and have flourished in spite of either. Grandda will never leave here. He will die here and be buried here.”

  As if she preferred to speak of it no more, she asked, “Hungry? I have venison stew that has been cooking for hours.”

  With that, the two women chatted on about many different things, and for the first time in a long time, Tara felt hopeful. Maybe Reeve had been right when he had suggested they not tell anyone of her past. Maybe, just maybe, this curse could be broken. And she could again live as she once had, having friends and perhaps even falling in love.

  While she hoped it could be so, an inkling of doubt taunted her. Was she being foolish and possibly placing this family in harm’s way? She had thought herself free once and had allowed herself to fall in love with Rory, and he had paid the price.

  Tara rarely allowed herself to go back to the beginning and what had started the curse, and she didn’t want to return there now. She didn’t want to think that it could happen all over again. She wanted to believe, had to believe, that her past was behind her. She was free, and she could hope.

  What were her chances, though, at keeping her freedom? God forbid her father discovered her deception. He would surely come claim her and force her to honor the marriage arrangement he had made. And who could stop him?

  She battled her doubts and worries as bravely as possible while keeping a smile on her face and chatting with Willow.

  Reeve and Jacob returned, and they were all soon sitting around the table, though not before Willow insisted that Tara keep her foot raised. Some of the swelling had gone down, and resting it might just chase away what remained. With nothing for her to brace it on, Reeve drew his chair close to hers, lifted her leg gently, and placed it on his thigh.

  “Done,” he announced with that teasing grin of his. “Now let’s eat. I’m starving, and it smells delicious.”

  Tara couldn’t protest his gallantry. She didn’t want to. She wanted to enjoy this time, this chance to share a meal with people, to joke, to laugh, to finally live.

  Chapter 8

  Tara took one of the two beds in the cottage and Willow the other. Reeve and Jacob slept in front of the hearth. It was with a lighter though cautious heart that Tara woke the next morning. The swelling in her ankle had gone down considerably though Willow warned it would be best for her to stay off it as much as possible.

  They had a hearty porridge for breakfast, and Willow wrapped the remainder of the black bread for them to take along. Tara had protested, knowing food wasn’t that plentiful for the pair, but Willow would have it no other way.

  “Grandda and I will fish later, and I’ll make us a nice fish stew, so don’t you worry about it,” Willow said. “Besides, friends never let friends go without if it can be helped.”

  Tara appreciated all Willow had done, but most of all she appreciated that Willow thought of her as a friend. In three short days, she had made two friends, and dare she hope it was the beginning of good things with more to come?

  Willow and Jacob stood outside to see them off. It was cloudy, the air not as cold as yesterday, which meant snow was not likely.

  “We could possibly reach home by nightfall,” Reeve said, resting his hands on her waist, and, with ease, he raised her and sat her sideways on the saddle.

  He then hoisted himself up behind her and adjusted her to rest against him, tucking her in the crook of his arm. “Comfortable?” he asked.

  She nodded though she was more than comfortable; she was content. Whatever was the matter with her? One moment she was keeping her distance from him and the next she was wrapped i
n his arms. It wasn’t only the curse that concerned her; her attraction to Reeve could also prove fatal. Did she think a man like him could ever truly love a woman like her? A woman burdened with a curse and by life.

  “We can’t thank you enough,” Reeve said to Willow and Jacob. “I will send some men to help.”

  “Go away with you,” Jacob said with a dismissive wave. “We don’t need any help.”

  Willow smiled. “We’ll take what help we can get.”

  Tara smiled as they rode off, leaving the pair arguing.

  “They are good people,” Reeve said.

  “I see that,” Tara said, hoping against hope that no harm came to them; that her curse was dormant, or perhaps waning. But could curses simply wear off? Through the years, she had tried to find out more about hexes, but it proved a difficult task. There were none who would discuss such evil doings, and her father had made certain that no seers were permitted on his land. Perhaps now, starting this new life, she could search and hopefully not only find answers, but a solution.

  They rode in silence for a distance, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

  Tara finally felt the need to speak, to thank him for what he had done for her before they reached home. Her new home.

  “I am very grateful for your help, Reeve,” she said, turning her head to look at him. She felt a twist and squeeze in her stomach and then a sudden thud to her heart. She almost cringed, but forced herself not to.

  It couldn’t be possible. She had only met this man two days ago. She knew little about him. Why? Why was she feeling for him what she had felt for Rory when they had first met?

  Lonely.

  A simple, direct, reasonable answer that made perfect sense. He was the first man who didn’t treat her as if she were a leper. It was only natural for her to feel kindly toward him.

  Kindly?

  Was she a fool? It wasn’t kindness she was feeling. It was the stirring of attraction coupled with passion. Something that she hadn’t felt in . . . she couldn’t remember when.

  “Tara?”

  She shook her head, realizing she had gotten lost in her thoughts.