Loved By a Warrior

by Donna Fletcher

  He wrapped her in his arms, kissing her cheek. “Now I know that you will stay put.”

  “Do not worry,” she said with a smile. “I am too comfortable in your arms to go anywhere.”

  And in no time they were both asleep.

  It seemed that they had just fallen asleep when the door crashed open.

  “We need you, Reeve,” Bryce shouted, and left.

  Reeve was out of bed running in nothing more than his plaid.

  Tara rushed to dress and hurried after him, not bothering with her boots.

  Trey was once again thrashing about.

  Tara felt his head. He was burning up again. “We need more ice.” She didn’t wait for anyone to respond. She grabbed the buckets and raced down the stairs and outside.

  Mara followed. “He was doing well.”

  “Fever is unpredictable. Up one moment, down the next,” Tara said.

  Once again, the two women worked over Trey, and this time when they were done, Tara refused to leave his side.

  “No!” she said adamantly, and plopped down in the chair beside the bed. “I will remain right here.”

  No one argued with her.

  Mara looked stricken, as if she had failed her son.

  “I could use a brew,” Tara said, knowing that giving Mara something to do would help. It was the way she had survived many times when upset. She got busy, so no thoughts could intrude, and then be so tired that sleep claimed her before any musings could.

  “I’ll get you a soothing one,” Mara said.

  “Bring one for yourself,” Tara said, knowing Mara needed to remember that she was not only needed but wanted here. Tara had been starved for both for so long she had almost forgotten how it felt to be needed and wanted. And she almost cried with the joy of knowing it again.

  Mara nodded.

  “You know how to handle my wife,” Carmag said. “I am grateful not only for that, but for all you do for my son.”

  Gratitude was another thing that had become so very unfamiliar to her, and so she was uncomfortable with it. She reached out to Reeve, standing beside her, for support.

  His hand closed around hers. “Tara has a good heart.”

  “A generous one,” Bryce added.

  “A loving one,” Duncan said.

  A smile peeked through Tara’s blush. “Sunrise is not far off; you should all get some sleep. If you are needed, Reeve will come for you.”

  She squeezed his hand tight.

  “I’ll be right here,” Reeve said, easing his brothers’ worries.

  They left, albeit reluctantly, their father leaving as well, with intentions of helping his wife.

  “Are you all right?” Reeve asked, hunching down in front of her.

  “I’ll get more rest being here than in your bedchamber.”

  “I have to agree, though I’d rather not.” He grinned.

  “Neither would I,” she whispered, and kissed him lightly.

  “Now you’re tormenting me.”

  “You tormented—no, you tortured me,” she said with a soft laugh.

  “How so?”

  Tara decided to be honest. After all, this had to be nothing but a dream, a fantasy for sure. Good things simply did not happen to her. “Your hands—” She paused, not sure how to say it and then simply plunged ahead. “They felt so very good and had me wanting so much more.”

  “Now you tell me.”

  “But I can,” Tara said softly, “for none of this is real.”

  Reeve looked at her strangely, and his hand rested on her cheek. “It is all real, my love.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I will wake, and you will be gone.”

  Reeve shook his head. “No, I will not. I am here with you, and here I will stay.”

  “How I wish,” Tara said softly.

  “Then your wish will come true.”

  Tara yawned and rested her head back against the chair, and repeated, “How I wish.”

  Reeve covered Tara with a blanket just as Mara and Carmag entered the room.

  “She sleeps,” Reeve said.

  “She needs it,” Mara said, and handed the hot brew to her son.

  Reeve took it and sipped it gratefully.

  “It’s been a long night,” Carmag said. “And it has yet to end.”

  Those words proved true since Trey’s fever climbed again, and Mara and Tara were quick to react. Though this time Reeve went and fetched the buckets of snow.

  By sunrise, Trey was resting, but Tara didn’t like the look of one wound, and she feared that poison had already set in. As the day went on and the fever continued to rise and fall and Trey remained in slumber, she feared the worst.

  “We’ve done all we can,” Tara said to Mara, as they watched over Trey.

  Mara brushed her son’s auburn hair back away from his face. “I won’t let him die. There must be something else we can do.”

  “There might be,” Mercy said from the open door.

  “Tell me,” Mara was quick to demand.

  Tara was pleased to see that Mercy looked much better, her cheeks full with color as she approached them.

  “Bliss could possibly help,” Mercy said. “She is a Pict woman who helped heal me when I was shackled to Duncan after I had been struck with an arrow.”

  “She is a healer?” Mara asked anxiously.

  “As Bliss once explained to me, she is not a healer and yet she heals.”

  “She is a witch?” Mara asked nervously.

  “No,” Mercy said, shaking her head. “She is a remarkable woman. You would like her.”

  “It matters not,” Mara said obstinately. “If she can help my son, then she is welcome here.”

  “I’ll go ask Roan if he can bring Bliss here,” Mercy suggested.

  “I’ll go with you,” Mara said, and looked to Tara.

  “Go,” Tara urged.

  “I won’t be long,” Mara assured, and hurried out with Mercy.

  Reeve entered shortly after the two women left. He was shaking his head. “I could barely understand mum, something about getting a witch to help Trey?”

  “No, a healer of sorts,” Tara clarified.

  “If she thinks it will help,” Reeve said. “Duncan and Mercy will be replacing you soon, so that you can join me in a meal.”

  Tara smiled and was ready to tell him she was starving when she looked to Trey first and saw his eyes open wide.

  “Reeve,” she said, standing and waving him to the bed.

  Once he saw his brother’s eyes open, he rushed to his side. “I’m here, Trey. You’re safe.”

  Trey’s eyes darted past Reeve to settle on Tara. They spread wide, and he raised his hand and pointed his finger at her and in a bare whisper before once again closing his eyes, he said, “Death.”

  Tara collapsed to the chair, her skin rising in gooseflesh.

  “He doesn’t know what he says,” Reeve said.

  But Tara wondered if perhaps he had learned something about her, perhaps he had known she was a death bride and in his pain tried to warn his family.

  “He doesn’t know what he says,” Reeve insisted again.

  They had no time to argue. Mercy appeared at the door.

  “Hurry,” she said breathless. “Willow has brought Jacob. He is seriously ill.”

  Tara froze, being plunged back into her nightmare. Death once again stalked those around her.

  Reeve grabbed her arm. “Mercy will stay with Trey. Come with me. Willow may need you.”

  Tara didn’t yank her arm free until they left the room and were near the stairs. “I cannot touch anyone anymore.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This is my fault.”

  “That’s nonsense,” Reeve said.

  “No, the curse is real, and it will only get worse. You must believe me,” she begged.

  Reeve grabbed her arm tightly. “Enough. We don’t even know what happened to Jacob and Willow. And Trey is crazy from fever. Keep your wits about you. Y
ou are needed.”

  Tara wanted to believe him, but she felt she would do more harm than good. “You heard your brother, I am death.”

  Reeve yanked her up against him. “Am I ill? Has anything happened to me?”

  Tara shook her head. “Don’t—”

  “Don’t point out the truth?” Reeve argued. “Trey does not know you—” He held up his hand when she tried to interrupt. “He speaks senselessly from fever. And Jacob is an old man. You had nothing to do with either of their misfortunes.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do,” Reeve insisted. “You are a good woman with a good heart. No curse can befall goodness.”

  “Don’t be foolish,” Tara warned. “I once was, and it cost me dearly.”

  “You were vulnerable and believed foolish mumblings.”

  “No, you don’t understand—”

  “I do understand,” Reeve said. “Let the fear go, or it will keep you forever cursed.”

  He didn’t give Tara a chance. He took hold of her hand and rushed her down the stairs and into the great room.

  Everyone was around a table, and Tara heard someone sobbing. Her heart lurched in her chest, and she feared, even though Reeve had warned her against it. She knew what was happening, someone had died, and Trey could very well follow.

  Reeve pushed past those around the table, and when Willow saw him, she fell into his arms.

  “He’s dead. Jacob is dead.”

  Reeve held her, and Tara looked at Jacob, who lay on the table. The same table where Trey had lain, and she had fought to save his life.

  “What happened?” Reeve asked.

  Willow moved away from him, wiping the tears from her eyes. “The old fool wanted to hunt even though he wasn’t feeling well. I refused to let him go alone. On our return home, we heard raucous laughter, and so approached the farm cautiously.”

  She stopped and walked over to Jacob, resting her hand on his shoulder. “The soldiers had returned.”

  Tara saw that Reeve’s hands tightened in fists at his sides. No doubt he blamed himself for the soldiers’ return.

  Willow continued. “Though I often called the old man a fool, he wasn’t one. He hurried me away—”She shook her head. “He was forever protecting me.” She wiped away the tears that fell. “He told me it was time we came here, and so we began the long walk.” She grew quiet.

  Mara went to her and slipped her arm around her shoulder.

  Willow looked up at her with tearful eyes. “He spoke to me as if he knew death was imminent. He told me I was to stay here at the village, where I would be safe.” She glanced down at Jacob again with sorrowful eyes. “He forced himself to live until he knew I was here and safe. He had promised his son that he would take care of me, let no harm befall me, and he did; the old fool kept his promise.”

  Willow broke down in tears, clinging to Mara. The older woman’s arms wrapped around her, offering comfort.

  “Jacob was a good man,” Carmag said. “He will be missed.”

  Tara stood stock-still, listening to the chorus of accolades for the old man that circled the room, each more profound than the last. And try as she might, she could not shake the thought that she was responsible for Jacob’s death. And then there was Trey.

  An icy shudder racked her body and the hand of fear suddenly gripped her hard and strong. She dreaded the overwhelming feeling that something bad was about to happen again.

  The door burst open, and Cora, the basket weaver, hurried in. “Please help me. Rand is lost in the storm, and Alida went in search of him.”

  Chapter 17

  Reeve couldn’t reach Tara before she fled the keep. He was grateful that she had the sense to grab her fur-lined cloak off the peg as she went. He knew she blamed herself for everything that was happening, and it would do him little good to say otherwise. The best thing he could do was let her seek the solitude she probably believed necessary while he helped find the children.

  As for Jacob, he was an old man, older than most, and he had lived his life as he pleased and died the same way. Reeve was angry that the soldiers had returned to torment the old man, and he wondered if they were the ones who had attacked Trey, a cowardly bunch for sure. If so, he and his brothers would indeed see that they paid for their evil deeds.

  None of what happened here was due to any curse. He didn’t know how he was going to convince Tara of that, but he was damn well going to make her see reason.

  He and his brothers were quick to organize men. Duncan would remain at the keep to help with Trey. Carmag would see to Jacob’s body being stored until burial, after the ground thawed, and Reeve and Bryce would lead a group of warriors in search of the children.

  Bailey, Kate’s husband, was fast to volunteer since he had come upon one of Rand’s hiding spots once before. Reeve wished there were time to go comfort Tara, but time was of the essence for the children. They wouldn’t be able to last long in the snow. Even though the snowstorm had abated somewhat, snow was still falling, and the air was decidedly crisp.

  Mara took charge of Willow, and Mercy went to stay with Trey. Duncan would join her as soon as he helped Carmag take care of Jacob.

  Reeve did wonder over Trey’s remark about Tara. Why would he point to her and say death? Had it been the fever talking, or had he learned something? Reeve didn’t know what to think, and he wondered what Trey would say when he woke and turned clearheaded.

  He refused to think anything other than that Trey would grow strong and survive. He had survived the loss of the woman he had loved beyond measure though it was obvious to Reeve and the others that Trey had never fully accepted her death, and it worried them.

  It had been a year since Trey had lost Leora, and he continued to mourn her. And he continually blamed himself for her death. No one could convince him otherwise, and the family had stopped trying, knowing that only time would heal his suffering.

  Would Trey wish to join his beloved? Would he surrender to death, feeling it was less painful than life? Reeve could only pray that such was not the case.

  “Ready?” Bryce asked, handing him a torch as they made ready to leave.

  “Ready and hopeful,” Reeve said, thinking not only of the children but Tara as well.

  Tara refused to feel helpless. She would not let this curse claim innocent children. She hurried to her cottage, relieved that the snowstorm had lost its force though snow continued to fall. At least visibility was better, and she found her way home without difficulty. Before she opened the door, she realized that she had walked the entire way, short as it was, barefooted. Annoyed at herself, she entered her cottage. There was no point in returning for her boots until she was dressed and ready to join the search.

  She found her extra pair of wool stockings, which she had no intentions of putting on until she had her boots. She topped her linen blouse with a wool one and wrapped a wool scarf around her head and folded a blanket over her arm. Once done, she returned to the keep and found it nearly deserted.

  She made a quick trip to Reeve’s bedchamber and slipped her stockings on and then her boots, ignoring the slight swelling that remained but wasn’t severe enough to prevent her from getting her boot on.

  She hurried out of the room and straight to Trey’s to check on him before she left.

  Mercy was there alone, and she smiled when Tara entered.

  “You go to find the children?” Mercy asked.

  “I must,” Tara said.

  Mercy nodded. “If I could, I would join you.”

  “You are needed here.”

  “I know,” Mercy said, “but let me tell you some of the places Rand likes to play and, in particular, hide.”

  Tara listened, nodded, and went to leave. She stopped suddenly, and turned. “What of Bliss?”

  “Roan was wise enough to send one of his men to fetch her once they had found Trey,” Mercy said, and shook her head. “Roan felt that Trey would not survive and hoped that perhaps Bliss could work a miracle.�
�

  “Why would Roan believe that?’

  “Bliss has had success in healing where others have not.”

  Tara nodded and left, wondering if Bliss had any luck with removing curses.

  Hours later, the men returned, unsuccessful. They had no plans of stopping their search, they simply needed nourishment and warmth. Reeve had detoured to Tara’s cottage, and when he didn’t find her there, he went to the keep.

  He downed a tankard of hot cider before going to look for her, assuming she was tending Trey, but Mercy was the only one there.

  “Have you seen Tara?” he asked, entering and looking to see how his brother was doing. Trey appeared to sleep contentedly, and he was barely warm to the touch, a great relief to Reeve.

  He realized that Mercy hadn’t answered and he glanced over at her and repeated the question. “Have you seen Tara?’

  Duncan entered as he asked, and when Mercy again hesitated, he said, “Did you not hear Reeve?”

  “I did,” she admitted with a nod. “But I fear he will not like hearing what I know.”

  Reeve stood tall and alert. “Where is she?”

  This time Mercy’s answer came quick. “She went to look for the children.”

  Reeve was out the door so fast that the flames in the fireplace flickered as if a strong wind had brushed past them.

  “Didn’t you try to stop her?” Duncan asked

  Mercy smiled. “Do you truly believe you can stop a woman intent on a mission?”

  Duncan hunched down in front of her and rested his large hand lovingly over her rounded stomach. “I couldn’t stop you.”

  “Then you have your answer.”

  Trey stirred then, and they both turned their attention to him.

  They both were shocked when Trey’s eyes sprung open.

  “It’s Duncan, Trey,” he said, grabbing hold of his flaying hand. “You’re safe.”

  “De—”Trey choked trying to speak.

  Mercy was quick to get him water, and he took it like a man dying of thirst.

  Trey tried again, but Duncan warned against it. “Don’t speak. There’s time for that later. You need to save your strength.”