Her smile returned. “Good, I will move my things in here in the morn.”
He would love to have her share his room, sleep with her, couple endlessly with her, but there were other things he needed to consider.
She spoke before he could. “It would be foolish for me to remain in the other room and make so many trips back and forth throughout the night.”
He smiled at the thought, but being more experienced than her knew that was unlikely, though he would not discourage her. “A wise decision,” he said, realizing too late he should not have agreed, but then he was better off knowing where she would be since she could be too curious for her own good.
Hannah yawned, feeling more comfortable and comforted in his arms than she had ever been. Or had it been from making love with her husband? She wanted to believe it was their joining that had brought her a satisfaction and comfort she had never known. She wanted to believe that Slain cared for her, could possibly love her, since she knew without a doubt that she loved him. How impossible it might seem, she loved Slain, and she wanted desperately to spend the rest of her life with him.
Regret poked at her, not for making love with him, but for not telling him who she was before they did. Now their vows were sealed and there was a chance his seed could take root in her, a thought that thrilled her. But would he be as thrilled when he found out who she was? She had to tell him. She could not wait any longer. Not now, though. She did not want to ruin this night with him. Tomorrow would be time enough.
She yawned and shivered, a slight chill running over her. She tightened her hold on her husband when he went to move. “Where are you going?”
“To stoke the fire and then get us snug under the blankets, a storm brews outside.” He kissed her cheek and slipped out of bed as reluctant to leave her, as she was to let him go.
Hannah remained on her side, her head resting on her arm as she watched her husband tend the fire. She kept her eyes fixed on him. She wanted to tuck this moment away in her memory and have it there to recall, should this be the last time they shared such a precious moment. She did not want to think that way, but after the last few months of hell, the healer’s words to her mum had proven all too true… life was unpredictable. She did not know what tomorrow would bring, she only hoped she would share it and all the days to follow with Slain.
She stretched her arms out to him as he approached the bed and her heart swelled at his smile and the look of affection in his eyes, the fury that had raged in them before completely gone.
He tucked her against him close after covering them with the warm wool blanket.
“You will share the morning meal with me?” she asked.
“Aye,” he said, softly and found himself looking forward to it. He wished he could spend more time with her, but there were important matters for him to see to. His months of planning would finally see fruition and he could let nothing stand in the way, not even his wife.
Over the morning meal, Hannah planned to confess her identity and be done with it, and see if it would change anything between them. Tonight she would enjoy every moment with her husband and pray that tomorrow changed nothing.
She turned sleepy eyes on him and saw that his eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, a soft breath coming from them. She eased her head up and pressed a faint kiss on his lips, not wanting to wake him and let a soft whisper spill from her lips, “I love you, Slain, and always will.”
With her head settled on his chest and her body tucked close against him, she drifted off in a peaceful sleep.
Slain opened his eyes after her body went limp against his in sleep.
She loved him.
Her words thrilled him and worried him. Now was not the time to have someone fall in love with him or for him to fall in love. She could be used against him and he would kill, as he had done, anyone who dared harm Hannah. If he had not owed a debt, he would not have wed, not now. To have wed Hannah to settle a debt was not fair to her, though honesty had him admitting that the debt had been an excuse to have what he wanted… Hannah.
The night he had saved her from that fall, stripped her of her worn garments, he knew he wanted her. The more he came to know her, the more she intrigued him, the more he wanted to know.
Not the time for love.
His mum had enjoyed telling him how she had helplessly fallen in love with his father and always finished with, love arrives when it wants, but it is up to you if it stays.
There was not a shred of doubt in his mind that he wanted Hannah to stay.
He would have to be more cautious in his plans and once it was done, once he stripped Ross MacFillan of everything just as Ross had done to his father and see that miserable, lying step-son of his dead, then, and only then, could he start a life with Hannah.
His eyes drifted closed, though sometime in the middle of the night he woke too Hannah stroking his manhood. It was a quick joining, since she had turned him so hard. His need could not wait and either could hers.
He woke her next, teasing her nipples with his tongue while his fingers pleasured her.
It was another quick joining since Hannah pushed him on his back and climbed on top of him. He helped her ride him, but when her climax drew near, he took charge, lifting her off him to drop on her back and spread her legs to enter her, her protests turning to moans as he thrust into her eagerly.
Sleep wasted no time in claiming them again and even the slashing rain and wind pounding at the windows did not wake them.
Hannah stretched herself awake and winced at the soreness between her legs, then smiled thinking it had been worthwhile. She turned, reaching for her husband’s warm body and found the bed empty.
Chapter 19
Hannah ate the morning meal in the Great Hall alone, her husband nowhere to be found. He had promised her that he would share the meal with her. No, she was wrong. He had not promised… he had simply said aye. What had happened to take him away from her?
When Helice told her she had no idea where he was, Hannah had searched the keep. She had even tried the door to the east wing, but it had been locked. She had no recourse but to wait his return.
The Great Hall was much too quiet. With the rainstorm, Imus and his men could not work on the door and she could not venture to the village in the heavy rain. She was trapped here and that would not have been bad if her husband was here with her, but she was alone.
When Helice came to collect the remnants of the meal, the woman shook her head and scolded. “You need to eat more.”
Hannah’s appetite had returned to what it once had been, but worries had a way of making it wane and remaining so until whatever worried her was settled. While numerous worries plagued her, there was one concern she chose to address now.
“I want peace between us, Helice,” she said and raised her hand to still any response. “When I am finished you may speak.” Helice pursed her lips and rested her arms on her ample chest and Hannah continued. “Your home is here and I have no wont, now nor did I before, to change that. What I would like is for us to be friends.”
Helice remained stoic, not speaking or moving.
“Is that possible?” Hannah asked, knowing it would take work, not even sure if she would be here to see it done, but determined to give it a try. For a moment, Hannah thought the woman would remain silent, then she took a step closer to the table.
“You speak to me as one familiar with directing servants and your knowledge is considerable… for a peasant. Your hands show no signs of hard work, yet peasant families work the fields together. You are no crofter’s daughter. When you tell me who you are maybe then we can become friends.” She picked up Hannah’s bowl and tankard and turned.
Hannah words stopped her before she could take another step. “You have your reasons to keep secrets and I have mine.”
“Secrets can destroy.”
“Like they do to this keep?” Hannah asked.
“Aye, secrets crumble this keep. When you discover them will y
ou stay or will you run?” Helice turned and walked out of the Great Hall, as if no answer was necessary, as if she already knew it.
Hannah thought on Helice’s words. Was the woman trying to warn her that she may not be able to live with the secrets harbored here in the keep? Could they be that bad?
She decided to go to her husband’s solar and look around. His drawings had shown promising improvements to the keep and at least one small one had already begun. Would the other drawings show her something else?
She tapped at the door, in case Slain had returned, but got no response. She eased the door open, stepped in, and eased the door closed behind her. The fire had burned down some and she went and added a couple of logs to it.
The wind and rain was lashing against the window and she wondered over her husband’s whereabouts and if he was safe. A burst of thunder had her jumping and made her anxious for his fast and safe return.
She went to the desk, the pile of drawings still there. She sat in the chair and made her way through each drawing. Some were more detailed than others were and the more she saw, the more she was impressed with her husband’s talented hand. The one where the keep appeared fully restored was beautiful. It appeared to welcome with open arms, flowering bushes surrounded the once neglected keep and, surprisingly, the window in the east wing stood open.
The drawings that followed showed the keep from different angles. The kitchen garden was larger and overflowed with plants and two buildings sat off to the left of it. Slain’s plans were substantial, but how could he do all this if his coffers were empty?
The next drawing had her eyes narrowing at first, as if she was not quite sure what she was looking at, then they popped wide. It was her home, drawn on a smaller scale and expanding out to the surrounding area. There were Xs in various spots. She recognized the one spot. It was where one of her father’s sentinels caught her trying to sneak off into the woods alone. She realized then what the Xs signified. It was where her father stationed his sentinels.
She quickly looked at the next drawing and it showed tiny Xs completely devouring the land around the keep. Was this something Slain planned or was this nothing more than what he wished he could do? He had no army, no warriors to fight for him. Or did he?
She stared at what seemed like thousands of Xs. Even if Slain had an army of warriors it would never be this large. There was only one who commanded such a large show of warriors.
Warrick.
Her stomach roiled so badly she feared she would lose what she had eaten. Slain might be considered a savage warrior, but it was nothing compared to Warrick. He showed not an ounce of mercy and cared not for the pain he inflicted on others. Many believed him one of the devil’s demons, and she knew all too well what pain he could bring.
With the amount of Xs on the drawing, her clan would take a savage beating, countless lives would be lost, homes destroyed, and her father… she closed her eyes, which only made it worse. Images assaulted her of what her father might suffer. He may have showed her little love throughout the years, but he was her father. As for her step-brother, Nial, she cared little of what happened to him.
Her unease grew as she continued to stare at the drawing and the more she stared, the more she saw endless carnage and suffering. What should she do? If she told her husband who she was, would it make a difference? Would he spare her clan or would he cast her aside? And what of her father? Would he see it as a strong union between two strong clans or would he think it an affront and demand the marriage be nullified?
Why did she ever think she could escape who she was and hide amongst her father’s enemy? It always went back to what choice had she? Anyone else would have turned her over to her father for a price? But what of Slain? What would he have done if given a choice?
The day wore on with no sign of her husband. She kept herself as busy as possible, listening for the sound of his steps or his voice. She spent some time going through the garments in the chest by her bed and found a couple she could stitch to fit her since they were slightly large for her. She also placed a few of her items in her husband’s bedchamber.
By evening she went back and forth from concern to annoyance that he had still not returned, nor had he sent word to her. The rain had not helped, having confined her to the keep all day. She finally retired to his bedchamber with the hope that he would return some time during the night.
Her hopes were dashed when morning arrived and she found herself alone. She was pleased the rain had stopped and as soon as she finished the morning meal, she hurried to get her cloak, intent on going to the village.
When she returned to the Great Hall, Imus and his men were working on the door and he acknowledged her with a nod as he stepped aside to let her pass. Blair had been right, her husband was a man of few, if any, words.
She smiled and waved when she spotted Blair walking toward the keep and went to meet her.
“Finally, the sun,” Blair said, casting a smile to the sky, “though who knows how long that will last.”
Hannah nodded. “Spring brings the rain.”
“You mean more rain.” Blair chuckled and raised her arm, a basket draped over it. “Brought some food for my husband, since he rushed out early this morning without eating and he can get grumpy when he does not eat.”
A shout had the two women turning.
“Sweeney, you owe me,” yelled a thin man weaving from side to side and looking as if he would tumble over at any moment, his steps so unsteady.
Blair rolled her eyes and shook her head. “That is Potsman, Wilona’s husband. He drinks more than he does anything else.”
“Sweeney, do you hear me? I want what is due me,” Potsman called out and looked about to fall back but caught himself. “You drank all my ale.”
Sweeney, a short wiry man put his shovel aside and approached Potsman. “You are daft, Potsman. I was not drinking with you last night.”
“Do not think me a fool,” Potsman garbled. “I know who I drink with.”
“It was not me,” Sweeney argued.
“Leave Sweeney be, you drunken fool, you were drinking alone last night and started again this morning as soon as you opened your eyes,” Wilona called out as she approached the pair.
Potsman nearly toppled over when he turned to wave a fist at his wife. “Stay out of this, woman, I know who I drink with.”
“Yourself, that is who you drank with,” Wilona said, waving a raised fist back at him, anger flashing in her eyes.
“Go mind your duties and leave me be,” Potsman ordered.
“Mind my duties?” Wilona said, stopping in front of her husband with her hands on her hips. “I have no time to mind my duties since I am constantly looking after you, the drunken fool that you are.”
“Do not talk to me that way, woman,” Potsman said, though the words were barely understandable.
“Go home with your wife, Potsman,” Sweeney said, dismissing him with a wave of his hand.
“You owe me and I will not be leaving here until you give me what is owed me,” Potsman said and fisted both hands, raising them as if ready to fight.
“Be gone with you, Potsman, and sleep off your drunk,” Sweeney said and turned away from the man.
Potsman swung, barely tapping Sweeney on the back. “Cheat. Coward.”
“Go home,” Sweeney said, moving further away.
“Coward,” Potsman cried out again.
“Go home,” Sweeney repeated.
Wilona went to her husband’s side and grabbed his arm, ready to drag him home.
Potsman threw himself into his swing as he jumped in the air and brought his fist around with all the strength he could muster, sending him in the wrong direction.
Wilona ducked and her husband’s fist caught Hannah on the jaw near her mouth and sent her stumbling. She landed sprawled out on the ground, in the mud left from yesterday’s rain.
“Good Lord!”
Hannah was not sure who said that, though right afterwards sever
al faces were peering down over her. All stared wide-eyed at her and though her vision was a bit blurry, she saw that it was Blair, Wilona, and Sweeney. Imus suddenly appeared as well and two more men.
“God help, Potsman, when the chief finds out about this.”
Hannah was not sure who said that either, but a couple of hands reached down to help her to her feet.
“Are you all right?” Blair asked, staring at Hannah’s jaw.
“It was an accident.”
Though the voice sounded as if it shivered with fear Hannah recognized it as Wilona’s.
“What difference does that make? Your husband struck the chief’s wife,” Blair said, her own voice trembling with as much fright as Wilona’s.
Hannah’s senses finally cleared and she agreed with Wilona. “It was an accident. There is no need for worry.”
Sweeney shook his head and looked to Wilona. “I would worry plenty. Look at how her jaw is already swelled and bruising.”
Hannah raced her hand to her jaw. She winced and her eyes turned as wide as the others upon feeling the large bump.
“It looks even worse,” Blair said.
“That was some unlucky punch,” Sweeney said.
“You deserved it and what do you mean unlucky. I got you good,” Potsman said as he struggled to get to his feet.
“You stupid fool,” Wilona screamed at her husband. “You did not hit Sweeney. You hit the chief’s wife.”
Her words hit him like a bucket of cold water being thrown in his face. His eyes bulged and he turned whiter than fresh fallen snow.
“You might as well start digging your grave now, Potsman,” Sweeney said, “the chief will kill you for this.”
“No.” Hannah defended her husband. “Slain would not do that.”
Every one of them stared at her as if she had lost her mind.
Their attention was quickly diverted when Potsman began weeping, a heavy, gut-wrenching weeping, and copious tears ran down his face. “I am a dead man,” he said through heavy sighs.
Wilona shook her head. “I will be a widow soon enough.”
Embraced by a Highlander Page 16
