by Eliza Knight
“Dinna discount yourself so much. Ye kept training for a reason.”
A reason he wasn’t sure of. Fighting in secret with those closest to him had been a way to release his anger, to beat the melancholy that surrounded him. He was a warrior, a leader of men, and to have lost half of what he used to protect himself and his people, he might as well be a warrior going into battle without a weapon. And he’d only picked up his sword after—
“I…” He trailed off and then cleared his throat. “There was a time, a verra dark time, that I’d not have come out here today. There might still be dark times to come.”
“What do ye mean?”
Niall stopped walking, his legs heavy, and the confession on the tip of his tongue making everything, even the falling snowflakes, appear to slow. “I wanted to die.”
“In battle?” Bella searched his face without judgment.
“Aye, and after.”
She nodded, understanding rather than pity in her blue gaze. Her grip on his elbow tightened. “Ye thought ye had nothing to live for—after the loss of…”
“Aye.”
“And now?” There was hope brimming in her eyes, which sparked the odd sensations running through his chest.
“The future looks brighter.”
She chewed her lip. “When ye said there still might be dark times to come, that is what ye meant, living or dying.”
Niall drew in a deep breath, contemplating just how to explain it to her. “Aye, sweetling. Today I feel…hopeful. But what’s to say tomorrow I will not wish for the…darkness. I understand if ye dinna want to keep yourself tied to me. I will go. All ye need do is ask.”
Bella’s expression had turned serious. “Nay. I still want to marry ye, and not because I’m afraid my rejection will push ye into despair.” There she went worrying that lower lip again. “I, too, feel a bleak melancholy sometimes. But with ye, I feel something, Niall.” She tapped his chest. “And it touches me here.” She tapped her own chest. “’Tis odd. I’ve never felt it before.” She shook her head and let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “But ye bring me hope. Hope that I’ll not have to traverse this life alone. The two of us, we can battle the abyss together.”
The place he kept locked up and buried deep suddenly burst open, demanding he accept his fate. The sensation took his breath away, and when he spoke, his voice was tight, “I’d like that.”
“Promise me ye’ll talk to me if ye feel the darkness coming.”
“Ye have my word. And ye, too.”
“I vow it.” They resumed walking in silence, Bella still clutching his arm, perhaps a little tighter than she had before. Leaning on him for strength.
For the first time since the slash that had changed his life, Niall felt a connection, that someone truly understood him.
He might have lost his arm, but Bella… She had thought to be alone the rest of her life, had been told she’d be alone before she could truly understand what that meant. He was happy he was able to provide her with that little bit of hope, and he wanted to be there for her. Just like she’d been there to push him onto the field of battle again.
When her hand slid down his arm to clutch his fingers, he entwined them in his and brought them to his lips. So slender compared to his and oversize hand. He ran a thumb over the calloused part of her fingers from using a bow, smiling at her bravado.
“I’m a lucky man, Bella Sutherland.”
She giggled and rested her head on his shoulder. “Nay, Sir Niall, ’tis I who am the lucky one.”
Bella shivered at the touch of his lips on her fingers. The warmth of his skin, his breath, spread through her. She sighed, her heart doing a little flip as sensations she’d never known coursed their way through her—starting at the place where his lips had touched.
A tenderness.
And the other…feelings, the ones rushing around making her belly tighten, and her blood spark, they seemed like what she sang and wrote about—desire, yearning, tenderness.
Most puzzling was how she could desire him? It wasn’t supposed to work that way if one was barren. Was it? And did he desire her? Was that even possible in his condition?
Bella chewed her lip, more confused than ever. Why hadn’t she paid attention or asked the questions that needed asking? Every time her mother had tried to talk to her about what happened between a man and a woman, Bella had shooed her away, not wanting to know about something she would never need to experience. Being barren had been her whole existence. And barren women didn’t lie with men. And men who couldn’t…didn’t.
And until now, she’d never actually believed she’d end up wed.
But here she was, walking beside a towering giant who made her heart skip a beat and had not only agreed to marry her, but had stepped away from his own darkness and faced his fears in order to prove he was worthy of her. A man she’d pined after since she was a lass.
“Niall.” She stopped abruptly and turned to face him once more. “Thank ye.”
“I appreciate your gratitude, lass, but for what?”
“For agreeing to marry me, when the last thing ye want or need is a wife.”
Niall cupped the side of her cheek, brushing his thumb gently back and forth. Unbidden, she found herself leaning into him.
“Och, lass, but do ye not see? A wife may have been the last thing I wanted, but ye, ye’re everything I could have ever dreamed of. I think I do need ye. I think I’ve known that since the moment we met on the battlefield. Ye’re beautiful, strong-willed, and one hell of a storyteller. Ye had the uncanny ability to pull me from my melancholy when no one else could. Do ye know when the princess was denying me, I was not offended, but relieved, because I knew if I was married to her, I’d never be able to live up to her standards. I was—” He clamped his mouth closed, silencing whatever confession had been about to cross his tongue. When he spoke again, his voice was taut, gravelly with emotion. “’Tis I who should be thanking ye, sweetheart. Ye saved me.”
Instinctively, she drew nearer to him and then glanced around. They’d walked well away from the tournament and were encased now in a copse of trees. She tipped her head back and rose up on her tiptoes to brush her lips over his.
The day before, she’d wanted to marry him out of convenience, and today—
Today, she simply wanted to marry him, to spend the rest of her life looking up into the eyes of a man who saw her for more than a vessel for bearing children. For the first time, the idea of remaining here at Dunrobin without him seemed bleak. Perhaps she should give living with him a try. She just might find joy having him with her that she’d not known before.
“I want to make ye happy, Niall. I dinna want to disappoint ye.”
“Do ye not see? Ye already have made me happy.” And then he deepened the kiss, threading his fingers in her hair.
Bella clung to him, curling her fingers in the leather of his armor. All hardness pressed to her soft curves. She gasped when he slid his tongue over her lower lip. He nibbled there, pressing that velvet heat forward into her open mouth.
“Oh,” she gasped at the frissons of heat that swelled and surged at his kiss.
How could a kiss make a woman feel this way? Was it wicked? It had to be…didn’t it?
“Ye make me feel alive,” Niall murmured, sliding his hand down her spine to press against her lower back. “Ye make me want to live.”
Nay, it wasn’t wicked. Couldn’t be. If her kiss gave him the will to live and made her feel like she was flying, then it had to be heaven sent.
All of the sudden, a surge of affection, of tenderness, swept through her. She couldn’t have fallen so fast for this man, and yet she was almost certain that she had.
“Oh, Niall,” she murmured against his mouth. “I am yours.”
Chapter 11
The following morning, after breaking their fast, Niall and Bella were wed in front of their king and countrymen. They stood nervously side by side. Her hands trembled so hard that she squeezed them toget
her until they were numb, and beside her, Niall swayed enough times that she worried he might actually lose consciousness.
When it came time for the priest to say, “Ye may kiss the bride,” Bella had lost all sense of feeling in her hands and was pretty certain her lips were numb, until she felt the brush of his lips on hers. They were warm and somehow steadied her. Her trembling eased, and his swaying ceased. Bella melted against him then, reaching to grab hold of his shirt when he abruptly ended their kiss, leaving her unbalanced until he gripped her elbow to right her.
A fierce blush covered her cheeks then, and she turned to smile at her parents, seeing them beam with pride. Niall’s brother, Walter, was there also, nodding at them with approval, and when she met his gaze, he winked.
A feast followed, with dancing and games. She was too nervous to do either, and luckily, Niall agreed they should sit and watch everyone else anyway, though she had a suspicion he chose to refrain for other reasons. When the sun began to set, Bella was ushered reluctantly upstairs by her mother and sisters, who wanted to help prepare her for bed. The day had been such a whirlwind she barely had time to think. But now that she was in the quiet of the bedchamber she’d had since she was a lass, the reality of being a married woman set in.
They helped her into her night rail and a thin robe, kind enough not to comment on how cold her hands were, or on the shivers that passed through her. Not because she would have to go through with the marriage bed, but because she had no idea how to tell her mother it wasn’t going to happen. And what exactly would Niall expect? He’d not spoken to her about it. In fact, when she’d been brought upstairs, he’d promised to be up shortly. Why?
Her sisters took turns brushing her hair and giggling the whole time as they whispered. Finally, Bella took the brush and shooed them away. Their mother, taking note of Bella’s anxiety, pushed them out the door.
“Bella,” she started, leaning against the door.
Heat rushed to Bella’s face, and she was suddenly exceedingly embarrassed at her naivety. “Mama, ye needna say…anything about…” She shifted her gaze away, not wanting to even say the words marriage bed to her mother.
“Oh?” Arbella kept any surprise she might have been feeling from her face and tone.
Bella shook her head glancing down at where her hands were folded in her laps. “Niall canna… He is…”
“Oh…” Her mother blushed, speaking softly in her English accent and hurried forward to pick up the brush and run it through Bella’s hair that already crackled. “How do you know?”
With her mother no longer looking at her, speaking was a little easier. “I heard Princess Elizabeth say so. ’Tis why she refused him.”
“I see. And does your father know?”
Bella shrugged. “I didna tell him, but if the princess knows, I’m assuming most everyone must, aye?”
“Hmm. I did not know, and he did not mention it. I would think…” Her mother paused, a sigh on her lips. “Never mind.” Her mother waved away whatever she was about to say. “And this is why you chose him, because you fear the marriage bed? There is nothing to fear, darling.”
Bella thought her face might burst into flames, and she nodded and then shook her head, confused as to how to answer.
“Darling, your marriage must be able to produce children, to carry on the line.”
“Ye have Strath and Liam for that, and Niall has Walter.”
“Oh dear. Your father will not be pleased. We could arrange to have the marriage annulled if you wish.”
Bella shook her head vehemently and gripped her mother’s hands. “Nay, mother. Niall is not the only one who…canna. I am…” Oh, confessing to her mother about her lie was painful. “I am barren, mother.”
Arbella let out a nervous laugh and set the brush down. She put her hands on Bella’s shoulders, massaging gently. “Nay, my darling, you merely came into womanhood late.”
Bella shook her head, wishing her mother’s touch would calm her as it usually did. She turned to look up at her mother. “I was pretending. I have never had my woman’s courses.”
Lady Arbella blanched. “Oh, my dearest child.” Her mother tugged her into her warm embrace, and Bella breathed in her familiar, comforting scent. Like baked honeybuns and roses. She closed her eyes and felt tears gather but pushed them away.
“Dinna pity me, Mama, I couldna live with that.”
“I just want you to be happy, and…well, being able to lie with your husband…”
“We will be happy, even without that. I know it in my heart. Please dinna tell Da. Dinna annul my marriage. I wanted him, Mama. Please.”
“All right.” Her mother pressed her hands to Bella’s cheeks and swiped at the tears that dripped. Before she could say anything more, there came a knock at the door and the sound of men singing. “Your husband has come.”
“Make them go.” Bella was quick to wipe the rest of the tears away with the sleeve of her gown. I dinna want them to…stay.”
Though it was customary for the guests to put the groom and bride to bed, since there would be no consummation, and Bella did not want anyone to know that, her mother agreed.
Niall came into the room towering over everyone and grinned at Bella with pride. “My beautiful wife.”
“My handsome husband.” She blushed from the top of her head clear to her toes, and smiled like a bride who was excited about what was to come next.
Lady Sutherland shooed all the men from the room when they tried to squeeze in.
“Good night,” her mother said with a soft smile.
She closed the door and their singing passed down the hall. Bella was relieved for the reprieve from a time-honored tradition. Neither one of them needed the crowd to witness the embarrassment of a husband and wife who could not consummate their marriage.
Well, it was best to get this over with. To rush through the formalities and go to sleep. Perhaps a goodnight kiss would be hers to have. They’d not had a moment alone to kiss beyond the brief press of lips at the ceremony, or since the day before when they’d hidden in the trees. “There is no need for ye to sleep on the floor,” she murmured.
Niall raised a brow. “The floor?”
“Aye. I had assumed that was what ye’d do.” She wrinkled her brow in confusion. “But since neither of us can…” She waved her hand toward the bed. “Then what harm can it do for us to share a bed?”
“Neither of us can what?” Niall raised a brow, looking so incredibly handsome and roguish at the moment her knees knocked together and her belly fluttered.
Bella cleared her throat, trying to sound completely unaffected. “Have children.”
“I’ve no proof, not like ye, lass, but what does having children have to do with it?”
No proof? Were the whispers she’d heard untrue?
She swallowed hard around the lump that had formed in her throat, trying to concentrate as she watched Niall unpin his plaid and belt. The fabric of his plaid slowly unfurled, leaving him to stand in his leine, the shirt coming to just above his knees.
He sat on a chair and started to unlace a boot.
Bella rushed forward and knelt before him, as she was certain a wife should, and took over the task. He smelled clean, as though he’d bathed right before coming to her. In fact, his hair was still a little damp, droplets sprinkling on her hands. An image of him bathing, muscles rippling as water sluiced over his skin, suddenly invaded her thoughts. She bit her lip at the wicked contemplation and the sudden tightness in her chest, and a shiver seemed to make her skin come alive. Where did that come from?
“I heard what Princess Elizabeth said to ye…” Why did her voice have to come out so squeaky?
“About?” he prodded.
Bella tugged off one boot, marveling at the sheer size of his foot. It was easily twice as long as her own. She started to work on the other as he untied the garter around his upper calf and let the hose sag down his muscular leg. She’d have to be blind not to appreciate the beauty o
f his body. Again, that racing in her heart, the prickles along her skin. And…what in blazes? There was a tingle between her legs, her breasts, too. Her nipples grew taut, and she felt…breathless. And hungry. But not for food. She longed for him to touch her. Wanted to climb into his lap and kiss him. Hard. And with tongues.
“About ye not being whole,” she finally managed to say through the tightness.
Niall raised a confused brow. “My arm?”
“And your…” Her gaze fell to where his shirt gathered at his middle, where a bulge had begun to appear. The place where a man had his…
“Ah. Ye thought me to be missing my—“
She was quick to cut him off, already feeling faint, and certain him saying that would push her over the edge. “Ye needna say the word. But aye, I believed ye to be…barren, too.”
“Did ye now.” Humor danced in his eyes and laced his words.
“Aye. I thought that was why ye didna mind having a barren wife.”
Niall grinned. “I assure, ye, lass, I am still a whole man where it counts.”
“And ye can…have children.”
“As I said, ’tis not yet been proven.”
“I see.” She chewed her lip, sat back on her heels and stared down at his feet planted on either side of her knees. “Ye’ll want to try then. With other women.”
“What?” He sounded exasperated, and she jerked her gaze back up to his.
“Ye’ll want to see, if ye can…with others…so your line…”
He cupped the side of her face and looked at her earnestly. “Lass, if I cared about my line, I’d not have married ye when ye told me ye couldna have children. I wanted to marry ye. And I’ll not stray from our bed.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Our bed… So ye expect me to…”
“To lie with me, aye.”
“But I canna. I am barren.” What was that breathy tone her voice had taken on? It sounded foreign to her own ears.
“That doesna mean ye canna lie with me, Bella.” He stroked the side of her face, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from sighing.
