“Time slipped away from me,” she said, clenching her skirt as she fought to remain calm.
“Is it only me or all men you fear?” he asked, all too familiar with fear when he saw it in another. It was almost tangible the way it rose up to grab at someone and squeeze tighter and tighter until it felt like a shackle had clamped around one’s entire body.
“I do not fear men… I fear what they are capable of. I am not so foolish to think I can defend myself against a man of your size and strength, or against men of power.”
“You have come up against such men?” he asked, his brow tightening. Any man who forced himself on a woman was no man… he was a coward.
“The evening meal awaits,” she said.
“Let it,” he said, realizing that she did as before and did not answer him, though it was not so much that as he wanted some time alone with her. As much as he tried to ignore it, he found that his time spent with her brought him an ease he had not felt in some time. And he ached for that as much as he ached to kiss her.
“I am most grateful that you have granted Tula permission to help me and for this cottage. It will work well.” She stepped to the side, hoping he would see she was ready to leave.
“Do you always avoid a subject when you do not want to answer a question?”
“Some things are better left unspoken,” she said.
He took another step toward her and the room suddenly shrunk around her, imprisoning her, locking her away. Her chest tightened and fear pierced her as sharply as a blade, and she went to run past him, needing to break free.
Craven’s hand shot out, capturing her arm and bringing her to an abrupt halt. “Espy?” he questioned with concern, seeing her eyes awash with fear.
She did not hear his concern. Her only thought was escape. She tried to pull her arm free of his ironclad grip as she demanded, “Let me go!”
He took hold of her other arm, though not tightly just enough to keep her from running off. “You are safe. I will not hurt you.”
Espy could not stop her panic from rising. It threatened her limbs and clenched at her stomach. She fought against it, told herself she was in no danger here, but the more she tried to reason with herself, the worse her panic grew. The next thing she knew, she felt as though a hand had clamped around her throat, squeezing ever tighter.
She gasped repeatedly, fighting for breath.
Craven watched the fear begin to consume her. It had crept up on him a time or two, but he had always managed to contain it, stomp it down, bury it. Had he caused such fear in Espy? Or had a memory reared its head to torment her?
“No one is going to harm you, Espy. You are safe here with me. I will protect you.”
He loosened his hold, hoping it would help her realize she was not being held prisoner, and her hands quickly latched onto his arms, her soft blue eyes wide and full of fright, and the urge to kill whoever had put such fear in her jabbed at him repeatedly.
Craven eased his arm to lie around her waist gently, while his hand went to caress her scarred cheek. “Easy, Espy, slow breaths. You have nothing to fear. You are safe. I will let no harm come to you.” He kept reassuring her and encouraging her to take slow breaths until finally her breathing slowed, and her head fell to rest on his shoulder.
His other arm went around her, his hand caressing her back. Not a thought entered his head to push her away or to let her go. As much as he wanted to fight against it, make endless excuses of why he should not enjoy having her there in his arms, this time he let it be.
Espy had never felt so safe, never felt her fear fade away so fast, but then she had never been held so gently, so protectively by a man. Aubrey had been lucky to have Craven love her as much as he did. The thought of his deceased wife had Espy shifting to step out of his arms as she raised her head to thank him.
Her eyes met his and held for a moment and an ember of passion flickered in his dark eyes, waiting to be ignited. Espy’s stomach churned and fluttered uncontrollably and her mouth fell open, the soft gasp that fell from it too silent to hear and too much for Craven to ignore.
His lips came down on hers in a kiss that neither of them could deny.
Chapter 10
Something sparked to life inside Craven, heating him, and chasing away the cold emptiness that had consumed him for far too long. Her kiss was like a healing tonic to his heart, the hurt and pain fading as she responded generously, eagerly, freely, as if she needed healing as much as he did.
He let himself get lost, he let himself feel, he let himself enjoy the kiss.
Her lips were strong against his demanding ones, her tongue eager to spare with his, and his body growing with a desire he had not felt in a long time. He could easily couple with this woman, feel her flesh, taste every bit of her, sink deep inside her, and get lost in pleasure.
The tempting thoughts grew him hard as did her taut nipples poking at him through his shirt. She was as aroused as he was. His hand slipped down along her skirt, between her legs and caressed the delicate spot and her soft gasp against his mouth confirmed his thought. She was as needy as he was.
Take her. Surrender your pain.
The thought of surrendering to her had him ending the kiss to his disappointment and guilt. “I want you. I should not want you, but God help me I ache for you.”
Espy pulled herself out of his arms, a task that would have proved difficult if he had not willingly let her go. “You are right. You should not want me. I failed you, Aubrey, and your bairn.”
She ran past him and this time he did not stop her. He stared after her, watching her disappear into the dusk that was rapidly fading to night. He could not believe what he had seen in her soft blue eyes as she had spoken.
Pain so strong that he had felt it himself.
She blamed herself as much as he blamed himself for Aubrey’s death. But if not her, then who was at fault?
Espy went straight to her bedchamber, her food waiting there for her. There were nights she wished she could eat with others, join in their conversation. Tonight was not such a night. She had lost her appetite and she did not want to see anyone. She preferred to be alone.
It troubled her that she felt such an attraction to Craven. She told herself that it was because of those moments when fear had managed to break through her resolve and he had shown her kindness that she felt that way. There been no one there to help her this past year when fear had conquered her. She had not always been that way and she hated that she was now. She had always been strong, her da and mum had seen to that. It had taken only one incident to change everything.
Helplessness.
She had never known true helplessness until that day and she never wanted to experience it again. It was one of the reasons she had returned home. She had to face Craven willingly and be done with it but most of all, she had wanted to feel her grandmother’s arms around her and know that she was loved.
She sat huddled in the corner of her bed, braced against the wall, her cloak pulled tightly around her. She did not want to sleep. She did not want the nightmares to return. But she was exhausted, mostly of fighting, always fighting. That was all she had done this past year to stay alive. Though there had been times she had thought death would be preferable, but her healing ways would not allow her to betray her beliefs. There had been many who had been grateful to her for her skills and she herself had been grateful that she had been able to help them, in more ways than just healing.
If only she had not… but what choice had she?
She shook her head. It did no good to dwell on it. It was done. At least, she hoped it was.
She yawned and rested her head against the wall, closing her eyes. She would rest, not sleep, but rest as she had taught herself to do. To always be alert. To always be ready to flee.
That was how Craven found her hours later. He had told himself not to look in on her that he had been informed that she had retired to her room upon entering the keep, but he had to make sure. To his annoyance it
was not to make sure she was there, but to see how she fared after the incident in the healing cottage.
Seeing her huddled against the wall, still wearing her cloak and boots was a familiar scene to him. It was the way warriors slept when in battle, ready to fight or flee at any given moment.
The question was… who was she fleeing from? Him or herself?
He told himself to leave her be, but something about her tucked away in the corner full of fright, tugged at his heart and he went over to her. He reached out to gently lift her in his arms to lay her on the bed so that she would not find her limbs aching in the morning. As soon as he did, her arms latched around his neck, clinging to him, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck.
He went down with her on the narrow bed, intending to lay there with her until the stiffness lift her rigid body and he could unlock her arms from around his neck without waking her.
It was his body that surrendered first, resting more comfortably on the narrow bed with her tucked against him than he did in the large bed he slept in alone. When his yawns became more frequent, he knew it was time for him to take his leave.
He reached up to pry her hands loose from the back of his neck, but her fingers dug in tighter each time he did and she snuggled closer against him. But it was her whisper that had stopped his hand from trying again.
“Please, I beg you. Do not let him get me.”
Someone was after her? Who had frightened her so much that it had sent her home to face him… the beast who wanted her dead?
His arm draped protectively over her once again. It was one thing for him to order her punishment, she belonged to his clan. That another should attempt to harm her was something else. Something completely unacceptable, but then he had sent her away, had banned her from the clan, from the only family she knew.
He thought of Cyra and decided it would be good for her to visit with Espy and for him to speak with her and see if she could shed some light on what had happened to Espy this past year. With his thoughts busy, he did not realize that sleep was sneaking up on him and drifting him into a deep, peaceful slumber.
The soft hair tickled at his nose and he did not want to wake and find it was only a dream. That Aubrey was gone forever and these special moments would only come in dreams. He sniffed, wanting to inhale deeply of the familiar scent and his brow furrowed. It was not Aubrey’s scent, a light, fresh sweetness. This was bolder, more potent, and tempting.
The sound of rushing footfalls disturbed the pleasant moment and had him opening his eyes to stare into Espy’s blue ones wide with surprise.
A loud gasp from the open doorway had them both sitting up quickly, Craven’s arm going around Espy to catch her before she toppled off the edge of the narrow bed.
“I see you had a pleasant night,” Dylan said while Tula stood in front of him, mouth wide, blinking several times, not believing what she saw as she stared directly at Craven and Espy in bed together.
Espy went to hurry out of Craven’s arms, but his strong order stopped her.
“Stay as you are, and as for you two,” he said with a nod to Tula and Dylan, “leave us.”
Tula turned, bumping into Dylan in her haste to obey and squeezed herself past him to rush off.
Dylan smiled as he gave Craven a nod and turned to leave, his steps not rushed. “Do not waste your breath in telling me to hold my tongue about this,” he called back. “Tula will have the word spread before I reach the last step.”
Craven kept his arm around Espy’s waist as he eased her as well as himself off the bed. He let go of her once she was on her feet, though he remained standing in front of her.
Espy waited for him to speak, too befuddled over waking up to find him in her bed and in his arms. What surprised her even more though was that she had slept well. No nightmares had disturbed her sleep. She actually felt well-rested.
Craven’s words caught in his throat. He intended to tell her that she was to sleep in the cottage from this day on, yet he could not bring himself to say it. He also could not bring himself to admit that he had slept soundly in the narrow bed with her cuddled close against him. It was not something he should be thinking and certainly not something he should think of doing again. Why then was that his thought?
“Go, eat, and tend to those in need,” he said and walked out of the room without glancing back, though he wanted to. He wanted another look at her face, flushed from her surprise at finding him in bed with her and, Lord help him, he wanted to kiss her moist lips.
“Damn. Damn. Damn,” he muttered as he walked to his bedchamber and closed the door behind him.
As soon as Espy heard the door to his bedchamber close, she hurried out of the room, working the braid out of her hair as she went past it and braiding it again as she went down the stairs. She did not bother to stop in the Great Hall and inform anyone that she would eat elsewhere today. She walked straight through without a word or nod to anyone and once outside, she went directly to the cottage.
She should be hungry after not eating last night, but this morning’s surprise had stolen her appetite. What would happen once word spread that Craven had been found in her bed this morning? Fully clothed or not made no difference, tongues would wag. It was not a place he should be found.
What had he been doing there? She remembered nothing of last night and how could that be when she usually slept light, listening for every sound, making sure to keep herself safe.
His arms had kept her safe.
That had been one of the thoughts that had raced through her mind when she had woken and found herself nestled tightly against him, his arms snug around her. She was safe, but how could that be when he had other plans for her?
A tap at the door had her shaking the multitude of thoughts away as she went to see who was there.
A young lad, about ten years, frowned as he raised a red, swollen arm to her. “My name is Reed and I got bit.”
She smiled softly and ushered him in. “Let me have a look, Reed.”
Tula arrived with food shortly after the lad and seeing the lad’s eyes turn wide at the generous plate of bread, cheese, and meats—far too much for her alone—placed on the table, she offered him some. The lad ate with gusto as he regaled Espy and Tula with his tale of how he went after the bug that bit him and killed him dead.
Espy instructed Reed to return tomorrow so she could see how his arm was healing and the lad nodded with enthusiasm, no doubt looking forward to another hardy meal.
By mid-day it had quieted and Espy took time to give herself a quick wash from the bucket she brought into the cottage, while Tula stood guard outside to stop anyone from entering. Espy slipped off her blouse and twisted her hair up to secure with two bone combs, a few teeth missing from both, to the top of her head.
She lathered a clean cloth with lavender scented soap and got busy scrubbing herself, starting with her face and working her way down. It felt so refreshing that she quickly stepped out of her skirt and boots and went to work on her lower half, where she was reminded of how slender she had gotten, her stomach flat and her hips having lost their fullness. The warmth from the hearth caressed her backside, less rounded than it once had been and as she gave her legs a scrub, she realized how slender and taut they had grown. Her body had changed along with everything else in her life.
She stood, dropping the wet cloth in the bucket, and stepped to the side of the table to reach for a towel on the stool to dry herself. She did not want to chance anyone seeing her naked.
The door swung open before her hand could grab the towel and Espy froze as Craven entered.
He froze as well, his dark eyes on her… all of her.
Espy was relieved when Tula closed the door on them, though that turned quickly to concern. Not only had they been found in bed together this morning, but he was now alone with her while naked. She grabbed for the towel, this time his words stopping her.
“I have need of you.”
The way he looked at her, his e
yes full of passion, his voice husky and wanting, had her rushing to grab the towel and hold it in front of her like a shield.
“Get dressed. I have need of you,” he ordered and turned to leave, but stopped and turned around and took quick strides toward her.
Espy instinctively went to step back, but his hand shot out and took hold of her arm, stopping her.
“That towel is a flimsy shield against me and against your own desires.” He turned. “Hurry, as I said, I have need of you and bring your healing pouch.”
Espy stared at the closed door. Her own desires? He thought she desired him? Why not? He had not forced her to return his kiss. She had done so willingly, though she continued to ask herself why. Had it been desire? She shook her head. It was madness to think that she could care for a man who blamed her for his wife’s death. Complete and utter madness. Now if only she could make her heart understand that. She needed to settle the mystery surrounding Aubrey’s death, proving her innocence and free herself of Craven. She would return home to her grandmother and finally live a peaceful life. Unless her past deeds returned to haunt her.
Craven will keep you safe.
If only, she thought and rushed to don her garments, braid her hair, and gather her cloak and pouch. She stepped outside to see Craven standing by his horse with at least a dozen of his warriors mounted on horses, waiting for his command.
Craven held his hand out to her and she went to him. “Who needs a healer?” she asked as his hands settled at her waist and he lifted her onto his horse.
He did not speak until he mounted the horse, his arms closing around her as he took hold of the reins. “The laird of Clan MacVarish.”
Espy recalled Bonnie telling her that the old laird was near death and when he died, Craven would inherit the clan and all its holdings. Bonnie had not seemed too happy about that and it made Espy wonder how the rest of the Clan MacVarish felt about having Craven as their new laird.
To Love A Highlander (Highland Warriors Book 1) Page 9
