“It was two fools in that fight,” Tara shouted, and all three men turned wide eyes on her. “Go on with all of you and glare at me like the fools you are.”
“We better go,” Duncan said, and Bryce nodded.
“Don’t you dare move,” Tara ordered with a shake of her finger. “You’ll stay put until I have my say.”
The two men remained where they were.
Reeve unwisely opened his mouth. “There’s no reason to be upset. I saved you as I always do.”
Duncan cringed, and Bryce shook his head.
“Saved me and then fought with not an ounce of wit,” she snapped.
Reeve made another grave error by taking a step toward her.
“Stay right where you are,” she yelled, her hand going up to ward him off.
Duncan and Bryce tried to ease toward the door.
“If you two move again, I’ll beat you,” Tara threatened.
They stayed put.
She threw her hands up in the air when she looked at Reeve. “I can’t believe you took such a chance. Does your life mean so little to you? Do I mean so little to you?”
He looked stricken and tried advancing on her once more.
She wouldn’t have it. “Don’t you dare come near me until you take this curse seriously. Why do you think I threw myself in front of you? I would rather die than see the curse take you from me. I love you, damn it, I love you more than life itself.”
Tara stormed out of the room, tears falling as she went.
Reeve stood, staring after her, then turned to his brothers. “What do I do?”
“Give her what she wants,” Duncan said.
“I don’t know how,” Reeve said, frustrated. “I do understand how she feels about the curse, but witches don’t exactly shout out their presence in the area. I have Neil making inquires, and he’s found a prophet, but no witch.”
“Perhaps the prophet can help,” Bryce suggested.
“He can’t remove the curse,” Reeve said, frustrated.
Duncan smiled. “But he can advise if it will affect you.”
Reeve’s face brightened. “True enough, and it could put Tara at ease.”
“Unless he tells you that you’re going to die,” Bryce said with a grin.
“Seriously, I’m going to have to beat you one day,” Reeve said.
Bryce laughed. “You can try.”
“My wager is on Reeve,” Duncan said.
Reeve scrunched his brow. “There is one thing we are not considering.”
“Which is?” Duncan asked.
“The prophet could very well know who among us is king,” Reeve said. “Do we take that chance?”
“We take a chance every day of his identity being discovered,” Duncan said. “Besides, he may be able to add to or explain what Bliss has told us about the spy and about the theft of the hide.”
“He does make a good point,” Bryce said.
“We should discuss this with Da first,” Reeve said.
Bryce placed a firm hand on Reeve’s back. “Then let’s go find him, so that you can put your wife’s mind at ease and enjoy your wedding night.”
Duncan laughed. “Or else you’ll be sleeping alone.”
Reeve approached his bedchamber with apprehension, not something he had ever thought he’d be doing on his wedding night. He had never meant to hurt Tara, was shocked that his actions had, and was even more surprised when she had claimed she would give her life for him. That’s something a man would do for his woman, give his life to protect her. Tara was so much more courageous than she realized. And if anyone could defeat this nonsensical curse, she could.
However, she didn’t see it that way, and in a way she had been right. Though it wasn’t the curse he hadn’t taken seriously, it was how the curse had affected her that he had failed to consider. He had expected her to simply believe that their love would be enough to battle the curse. But he had not lived through the ordeal that the hex had cost her. Year after year, losing those she loved, living alone without so much as a comforting touch. The curse had been a costly ordeal for her, and he had expected her to dismiss it as if it had never affected her. He had been a fool.
Carmag had agreed about the prophet, and word was sent to Neil to have the prophet brought there. He wasn’t sure it would appease Tara, but it was worth a try. And he intended to let her know just how seriously he was taking the matter.
He entered his bedchamber with trepidation, though determined. He stopped dead once inside and grew angry. She wasn’t there. He hurried to his mother’s sewing room, and when he found it empty, he grew angrier. He hurried to Trey’s room and quietly opened the door to peek in, but it was Willow who sat watch over his sleeping brother.
Now he was furious. There was only one other place she could have gone—her cottage. And by returning to her cottage, it all but told him that she didn’t consider them wed. He stormed downstairs, through the great hall, and out into the night.
A light snow fell, and though the air was bitter, his anger had him much too hot to notice. He didn’t bother to knock at the door; he grabbed the latch and shoved it open. His eyes narrowed, and his mouth tightened as her head shot up from where she stood in front of the fireplace. She had already changed into her soft white wool nightdress, the fire’s light silhouetting her naked body beneath.
He slammed the door shut behind him.
“If you have not come to your senses, then take your leave now.”
“And what of you, wife?” he argued. “Deserting her newlywed husband on their wedding night?”
“You’ll not lay the blame on me for this,” she spat.
“And I should lay it on me for saving you?”
“You took a chance of—”
“Keeping us both alive,” he snapped, “and successfully.”
Tears clouded her eyes, but she kept her head high. “For the moment.”
He grumbled beneath his breath. He couldn’t bear to see her cry again. She had shed enough tears and had suffered enough hurt. He didn’t have to cause her more, and it hadn’t been his intention. Again he was thinking of himself, being annoyed that she had left the keep, in a sense leaving him. But if he truly understood his wife, he would have realized that her absence spoke loudly of her love for him. By returning to her cottage, she felt that she somehow was protecting him.
With his anger abating, he took a cautious step forward, and when she didn’t order him to stop, he took another and another until he stood beside her. He didn’t reach out and touch her; he didn’t trust himself. Once he did touch her, he’d have her in that bed making love to her, and things needed to be discussed between them first.
He started with words that he truly meant. “I’m sorry.”
Her eyes popped wide, and a tear broke loose and slipped down her cheek.
“You are right. I have not taken this curse seriously enough.”
She sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her head on his chest.
His arms went around her as her warmth spread over him, chasing the chill that had crept into his bones and the ache that had settled in his heart.
“I will do whatever it takes to get this curse off you,” he said.
She looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you for understanding.”
“It’s about time that I actually did,” he admitted. “To me, it seemed an easy thing to be rid of, but I haven’t lived with the curse and the heartache it brought. And I want no more heartache for you. I want you free to love and live.”
“You have no idea how much I have wished for that.”
“You shall have it; I’ll make sure of it.”
“I believe you,” she said as if just realizing it. “I truly believe you.”
He grinned. “Finally, we both understand each other.”
“Now what?” she asked eagerly.
“I’d like to scoop you up and carry you to bed and make love to you, but—” He paused and gave her a quick kiss. “I
have something I wish to discuss with you first.”
“I’m listening though I am just as eager to make love.”
“Damn I lo—”
She pressed her fingers to his lips. “Not yet, I know what you want to say, I can feel it, but not yet.”
“When the time is right, I’m going to shout it.”
“A soft whisper in my ear would serve just as well.” She kissed him soft and sweetly.
He eased her away from him as he took a step back. “I need a bit of a distance, or the discussion will be forced to wait.”
“Tell me,” she urged anxiously as she moved farther away from him.
“You know that I have been trying to locate a powerful witch—”
“You have found one?” she asked, excited.
“No,” he said, and was sorry to see her joy plummet. “I have found a powerful prophet.”
“What good does that do?”
“He could tell us the future, warn if there is danger ahead for me, and perhaps let us know where to find the witch we need.”
“I never thought of that,” she said, nodding. “You’re right.”
“I’m always right.”
“Will I never learn?” She laughed.
“I’ll keep reminding you even when we’re old and gray.”
“The prophet could tell us if that will be so.”
“From what Neil tells me, this man is a powerful prophet and knows much,” Reeve said. “He may be able to help us more than we realize.”
“Have you sent for him?”
He was pleased to tell her, “He’s been sent for and should be here in a day or two.”
Tara walked over to him, laying her hand on his chest. “I am grateful.”
“So am I.”
“Grateful for the prophet?”
He shook his head and stole a kiss. “No. That our discussion is done, and I can now get you into bed.”
Chapter 34
Tara cuddled closer to Reeve, a chill creeping up and over the bed. Had they forgotten to add logs to the fire before going to bed? She smiled, recalling what she remembered of last night. Reeve had made wickedly delicious love to her, his exact words of what he had intended to do to her. And oh how he meant it.
She didn’t think there was a part of her that he hadn’t tasted, teased, or tormented with his lips, tongue, and she giggled, thinking about her favorite appendage of his that had delighted her.
Worried that she was becoming too sinful when it came to her own desires, she had confessed her concern to him. Bless him, he hadn’t laughed, he patiently explained how there was nothing wrong with her zeal to make love, and he fervently hoped that it would remain that way.
Feeling more at ease with her unquenchable desires, she had climbed on top of him and eagerly confessed that she loved riding him. He had offered to let her practice riding as much as she wanted to.
It had been a glorious wedding night though she had woke on and off checking to see that Reeve was all right, that death hadn’t claimed him. She had never had a husband survive past the wedding day, and she was hopeful that perhaps the curse wouldn’t rear its ugly head.
She suddenly recalled a dream she had during the night. She sat by a river talking with someone. She didn’t know who, she couldn’t see him clearly, though she felt she knew him. He urged her to remember, and then he told her that love had freed her, and she was so very happy. She woke after that and wondered about it and had soon returned to sleep and forgotten all about it until now.
Reeve stirred beside her, and his arms soon found their way around her and pulled her tighter against him. He nibbled along her ear. “It’s damn cold in here.”
She laughed softly. “I thought the same myself. We must have forgotten to add logs.”
“Your fault,” he said, wrapping his leg around hers. “You attacked me almost all night.”
She laughed again. “I beg your pardon, sir. It was you who scooped me up, stripped me bare, and had your way with me.”
“And what of the many times you rode me.”
Tara sighed. “I’ve had no better rides.”
Before he could respond, a sharp pounding rattled the cottage door.
“Go away,” Reeve yelled.
The door burst open, and Bryce walked in. “Damn it’s cold in here.” He rubbed his arms and went straight to the fireplace, where nothing but embers remained. “Are you trying to freeze yourselves?”
“It was stifling hot in here all night,” Reeve said.
Tara snuggled farther under the covers, which her husband pulled up to her neck.
“There’s a problem,” Bryce said, standing after the fire began roaring.
“What’s wrong?” Reeve asked.
Bryce shook his head. “Carnoth is here with a few of the king’s men. It seems that the king isn’t recognizing your marriage and insists that Tara honor the agreement her father signed.”
“The king’s cleric wed us,” Tara said.
“That’s the problem,” Bryce said. “The king claims he never gave the cleric permission, and that your vows are invalid.
“We gather our warriors just in case,” Bryce said, worry lingering in the corners of his eyes. He walked to the door. “Hurry, we need to see this done.”
Tara rushed into her garments with as much speed as Reeve. She didn’t waste time on her hair; she let the black ringlets fall where they might. And after grabbing their cloaks, they joined hands and hurried to the keep.
Neither spoke, neither had to. They both knew that nothing, absolutely nothing would separate them.
“What nonsense is this?” Reeve demanded, as they approached her father as soon as they entered the great hall.
Tara remained by his side, her eyes wide and alert. She would protect her husband however she could.
King Carnoth stepped forward. “It is King Kenneth’s doing.”
“How did he learn of this so fast?” Reeve demanded.
“He is not far,” the soldier beside Carnoth said. “He had planned to surprise his new bride and was met with the troubling news. But it matters not; Carnoth promised her to the king, and to the king she goes.”
“Not going to happen,” Reeve said vehemently.
“You have no choice,” the soldier protested. “She is the property of King Kenneth.”
“Tara is my wife,” Reeve argued.
“Not according to King Kenneth, and the king’s word is law,” the soldier said.
Before the argument escalated, Tara stepped forward. “Father, can I speak with you?”
Carnoth nodded, and Tara stepped away from her husband, her father following her to a discreet corner in the hall to talk privately.
“King Kenneth cares naught for me. He wishes nothing more than my bride price. Pay the king and free me.”
“Get it from your husband,” Carnoth snarled low.
“That is his to keep,” Tara said. “Besides, your coffers spill over, you have more than enough money to give the king and still have a sizeable amount left.”
“And it stays that way,” Carnoth said in a threatening tone.
“Not if I inform the guard of your hefty coffers. I’m sure he would be rewarded with bringing the king such good news.”
“If King Kenneth found out, he would take until I was bone-dry,” Carnoth complained.
“Unless you simply pay him the bride price and be done with it. He’s not interested in me. He wants only the money. You will free yourself, and you will free me with this charitable expression, or–” She shrugged. “I speak up. Something you have not let me do for a very long time.”
“You are no daughter to me,” Carnoth spat.
“You’re right, Father,” Tara said sadly. “I am no longer your daughter.”
She stepped away from him and returned to Reeve, his arm going possessively around her waist.
“Take me to the king,” Carnoth balked. “I have an offer I know he will not refuse.”
When her fa
ther and the soldier left, Reeve asked, “What did you say to him?”
“I spoke in terms my father would understand,” she said, and smiled.
“It is good that you are now part of our clan; the true king can make use of your negotiating skills when needed,” Duncan said.
“I would be honored to serve him,” Tara said.
Mercy and Mara entered the great hall.
“What goes on here?” Mara demanded, walking up to her sons. “The king’s soldiers here, and I am not made aware of it?”
“How is Trey?” Tara asked.
“He does well, improves with each day. Willow is with him now.” Mara wagged a finger at her. “But don’t think to divert me from the question. “What goes on here?”
“Nothing that Tara couldn’t handle.” Reeve beamed with pride.
“That’s my daughter,” Mara said with equal pride.
Both beaming faces almost brought tears to Tara’s eyes. No one had ever shown or expressed pride in her, and it filled Tara’s heart with joy and with a sense of family.
“We’ll celebrate with a hearty breakfast and then I will begin plans for a wedding feast,” Mara said.
“I’ll help,” Mercy offered.
“You should rest,” Duncan said, going to her side and scooping her up with ease before plopping down on a bench and settling her in his lap.
The family gathered round the table, while pitchers and bowls and heaping portions of food were brought out.
“Where is your father?” Mara asked just before everyone began to eat. “We don’t start without him.”
The brothers looked from one to another, and they all suddenly stood.
“He had gone to ready the warriors,” Duncan said.
“Yet no warriors have joined us here,” Reeve said. “Something is wrong.”
“Good Lord!” Mara said, wringing her hands. “Go find your Da,” she shouted at her sons.
They never reached the door. It opened, and in walked Carmag, accompanied by a tall man who appeared a hardened warrior. Old scars covered a good portion of one side of his face, and under the bulk of his fur-lined cloak, which swung open, was more bulk, though it was one of muscle and form. He looked to be a man seasoned in many battles and not always victorious ones.
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