“Nonsense,” Hannah said. “I will speak to Slain and explain everything.”
Sweeney turned to Potsman. “Run while you can.”
“No, all will be well,” Hannah encouraged, though no one paid her mind.
Potsman clung to his wife as they walked off together, mumbling over and over. “Dead. I am dead.”
“For once, he is right,” Sweeney said, shaking his head and returning to work on the door.
The other two men followed him and Imus turned a sad shake of his head on his wife, took the basket from her, and walked off.
“Potsman is right. The chief will kill him for laying a hand on you,” Blair said.
Hannah tried reassuring all and herself, since the thought of the man dying because of an unfortunate incident involving her was not something she could live with. “I will not let that happen.”
“You will not be able to stop him… the savage. He will show himself and that will be the end of it and the end of Potsman.” Blair patted Hannah’s arm before turning and heading to the village.
A gray cloud suddenly devoured the sun as if confirming Blair’s prediction and knowing a visit to the village now would only worsen things, she returned to the keep.
Hannah changed garments and kept to herself, not letting Helice see her bruise. By evening her jaw pained her and seeing her reflection in the window she almost cringed. The corner of her mouth down to her jaw was swollen and a dark spot covered a good portion of it.
She kept her hand over the area when Helice brought her the evening meal. She found eating a bit painful, though it was her worry for Potsman that had her appetite waning after only a few mouthfuls.
“You miss your husband so much that you cannot eat.”
Hannah was so happy to hear Slain’s voice that she did not think about her bruise. She jumped up from the table, her hand falling away from her face and a smile spreading across it, though it turned to a wince fast enough.
Hannah watched her husband transform before her eyes. Ferocious anger flared like a fiery flame in his dark eyes, his lips appeared to take on a feral lift, and she thought she heard him give a low animal growl.
He sprung so fast toward her that Hannah jumped and gasped when his hands took hold of her arms, turning her to face the hearth’s flame for him to see better.
She spoke quickly, hoping to soothe him. “It was an accident.”
Slain could not take his eyes off his wife’s swollen and deeply bruised jaw. She had taken a hard punch, though not as hard as the one he intended to deliver to the person who did this to her, accident or not.
“Who?” Slain demanded.
“It was an accident and best forgotten,” she said and foolishly tried to smile in hopes of softening his anger. She winced instead, which only served to spark his anger even more. She could almost feel the low rumbling growl stir in his chest. “I am unharmed. It is nothing.”
Slain fought to contain the fury that mounted in him. “You are not unharmed and you say it is nothing when your jaw is swollen and bruised so badly that you cannot smile without it paining you.” His growl was stronger this time as he raised his eyes to the rafters for a moment, shook his head, and took a strong breath. “You cannot eat without pain either, can you?”
“It is a bit sore, nothing more.”
“You lie,” he accused though softly and eased her down to sit on the bench, joining her. With a faint touch, he ran his fingers over the bruise. “Tell me the truth. Does it pain you?”
The anger in his eyes had quieted, though remained stirring there and his touch was ever so gentle and caring. She decided the truth would serve her best, as it would be later when she revealed her identity to him. Something she was not looking forward to, but was necessary.
“It pains me to smile and to chew, but it is not an unbearable pain,” she admitted.
“It is an unnecessary pain none-the-less.”
Hannah gently rested her sore jaw against his hand. “It truly was an accident. No one needs to suffer for it.”
“That is for me to decide,” Slain said his heart going out to his wife for her suffering. When he first saw her injury, he could not contain the savage within him. He rose with a fury ready to tear someone from limb to limb, something he was still thinking of doing. Though first, he would tend his wife. “Has Helice seen to your injury or the healer?”
Hannah moved her head away from his hand reluctantly and shook her head. “It is not necessary. It is a bruise and will heal in its own time.”
“What happened?” he asked instead of who did it, intending to find out one way or another.
Hannah hoped to avoid names. “The punch was meant for someone else. I was hit by accident.”
“So there were others present,” Slain said, something he was glad to hear, for if his wife would not give him the name he needed, someone else would.
Hannah realized the same as her husband. “You will find out so I may as tell you it all.”
“You are right. I will find out all of it, though I prefer it come from you.”
“I will tell you, but please give me your word you will not harm the man over a foolish accident.”
“Foolish or not, that is for me to judge.” He leaned forward as soon as Hannah appeared ready to protest and brushed his lips gently over hers. “Tell me, wife.”
What choice had she? He would find out and perhaps the telling of the incident might be better coming from her.
Hannah explained it all, impressing on her husband that it was an unfortunate accident. Her husband showed no reaction as she spoke, but anger remained stirring in his dark eyes. She finished with, “So you see no malice caused it.”
“No, drunken foolishness did,” Slain said and shouted out for Helice.
The woman must have been lurking nearby since she appeared quickly and Hannah was surprised at the concern on her face when she looked upon the bruise.
“See to my wife’s wound and if you feel she needs the healer, fetch her. Also brew a broth for her since it pains her to chew. I will return shortly and share the meal with her.”
Hannah grabbed his arm when he went to stand. “There is no need to harm Potsman.”
“I remind you again… my decision,” Slain stood and left the Great Hall.
“You should have come to me,” Helice said her voice gentler than Hannah had ever heard it.
“You would have told Slain upon his return.”
“Of course, I would have. He is your husband and chief of the clan. He must know,” Helice said as if Hannah’s question made no sense.
“You know him better than me,” Hannah said a bit of envy poking at her. “Slain will not harm Potsman, will he?”
“Slain will do what is necessary. He always does.”
Hannah waited until Helice took her leave and knowing she would return soon hurried out of the keep, not even bothering to stop for her cloak.
Chapter 20
Light was just fading from the land when Slain walked through the village, his strides strong and his anger apparent. Mumbles and whispers followed him, as did the villagers. He paid them no heed, his thoughts on Potsman alone. His wife may have had sympathy for the drunken sot, but he did not.
“Potsman!” Slain shouted when he came to a stop in front of the man’s cottage. It was small and well-kept thanks to Wilona, since the worthless fool did nothing to help. He shouted his name again. “Potsman!”
The door creaked open and Wilona stood there, her eyes red from crying.
Slain’s anger grew that the man was such a coward he would send his wife to face him, but then Wilona was nudged out of the way and Potsman stepped out the door, Wilona following so close behind him that they looked as one.
Potsman stood with his shoulders drawn back. “I would beg for forgiveness, my chief, but what I did was unforgiveable. I deserve whatever punishment you inflict on me.”
Potsman was soberer than Slain had ever seen him and far cleaner as well, no foul odo
r emanating from him, but that only infuriated Slain more since it had come at the expense of his wife’s suffering.
Wilona went to step forward to speak, but Potsman stuck out his arm, stopping her, and whispered something over his shoulder. She remained as she was, though tears pooled in her eyes.
“I am sorry for hurting Hannah, for she has been nothing but kind and gracious since her arrival here, and it is good you have found such a fine woman to take as your wife.”
“How generous of you, Potsman.”
Everyone turned, except Slain. He rolled his eyes to the heavens at the sound of his wife’s voice. The woman had far too strong a mind of her own. But was that not what he loved about her?
Love.
He had been struggling with the thought since he had left her the night before last after they had coupled for the first time. Though they had not coupled, they had made love, and having been separated from her for a mere day had made him realize that, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Love. It was something he was still trying to come to grips with and this matter did not help any.
He had failed to be here and protect her and now he wanted to make it right. He wanted his revenge.
Slain heard people shuffling behind him, clearing a path for Hannah to join him and he knew next he would hear her speak.
“I explained the unfortunate accident to Slain,” Hannah said as she stepped beside her husband and took his hand. “He knows you meant me no harm.”
“I would never harm you. I would lay down my life for you if necessary,” Potsman said with a sincerity that touched Hannah’s heart.
“A fitting punishment,” Slain said, wrapping his fingers tightly around his wife’s hand.
Hannah spoke up. “But not at all necessary.”
Silence fell over the crowd, hearing Hannah all but correct her husband.
“Your chief knows mistakes are made and mistakes can be forgiven,” Hannah said, thinking of her own mistake of not telling Slain the truth before they wed and fearing the consequences.
Though they had not known each other very long, she could not imagine life without Slain. Somehow he had filled a void in her, an emptiness she had not known she had until she had met him. The thought of life without him frightened her and realizing that now frightened her even more, since she may have no future at all with him.
Slain remained silent, wondering over her words and if they were meant for Potsman or herself. Had she made a mistake and feared to tell him? But what mistake? She certainly had been agreeable enough when they made love, so it could not be that. And he did not believe that she regretted their marriage, since she seemed to have planted herself firmly in it, wanting to get busy making changes to the keep.
“Mistakes can be forgiven, unless they are grievous,” Slain said and thought he felt her body gasp, but she quickly shook her head as if shaking it away.
“It is good then that this incident is not grievous,” she said with a slight smile, fighting off the wince that rose up to grab at her.
The crowd remained silent, waiting to see if the new bride of the Chief of Clan MacKewan could contain the savage.
Slain stared at Potsman, his dark eyes smoldering, ready to ignite at any moment. “You will report to Imus in the morning and help with the work on the keep door. You will continue to work on the keep until I say otherwise.”
“Aye. Aye, my chief,” Potsman said with a look of pure shock.
Wilona nodded vigorously behind him, her own expression one of shock as well.
Hannah was pleased with her husband’s wise decision to keep Potsman busy working on the keep so that he would be too busy to drink, at least as much as he usually did.
What happened next stunned everyone, leaving them open-mouthed and staring.
Slain moved with such speed no one knew what happened until it was over and Potsman lay on the ground, blood flowing from his mouth and his lip, and his jaw swelling so badly he would be lucky if he could eat or drink for days.
“Touch my wife again and I will kill you… and not slowly.”
Hannah’s breath caught along with the crowd’s and she got the distinct feeling there was more to her husband’s warning that they understood than she did.
He took her hand and the crowd parted once again to let them both pass this time.
Hannah felt the blood on his knuckles but said nothing until they left the village. “Your hand is bleeding.”
“Aye, and it feels good, though he deserved much more.”
What did she deserve for deceiving him? She would know soon enough since she did not intend to let any more time pass without telling him. The burden of the truth had become too heavy for her to carry or perhaps it was the possible consequences that burdened her the most.
Hannah planned on speaking to her husband alone as soon as they entered the keep, but her plans went astray when she saw that Helice had food waiting for them and her husband made it quite clear that she was to eat.
The hot broth Helice had made for her was tasty, though she had to force herself to drink it since her stomach rolled in waves of worry.
“You barely sip the broth. Does it pain you to do so?” Slain asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice, since it was not meant for her.
“No, the broth causes me no pain,” she said, “though what does pain me is that I woke alone yesterday morning and today, and you left no word of where you went or when you would return.”
“It does not concern you,” Slain said, turning his attention to the stew in front of him.
“You are my husband and anything that takes you away from our bed concerns me,” she said, laying a gentle hand on his arm and managing a soft smile without wincing.
Slain loved when she smiled whether softly or exuberantly it did not matter, and that she should bear pain to do so made him want to make Potsman suffer even more. Though, what touched his heart and stirred him to arousal was that she had missed him in their bed.
Their bed.
That he shared his bed with her, wanted to share it with her, continued to surprise him. He had given no thought to falling in love, had no time for it. Yet love had struck him whether he wanted it to or not. It had hit him hard, harder than he had ever thought possible. And while his first instinct was to fight it, he had soon learned that it would be a battle that would know no victory for him.
He turned to her and whether it was a wish on her part or real, she thought she saw a spark of love in his dark eyes. It had been brief, but she had seen it or was it that she believed strongly enough that she had, which propelled her to speak before giving thought to her words?
“You have stolen my heart, though I gladly give it to you, for my love for you runs deep.”
Slain stared at her, shocked that she felt as he did and that she had the courage to admit it.
Hannah shook her head. “I do not know when I fell in love with you or even why. I only know that my heart beats ever faster when you are near and flutters fill my stomach, and I want to forever hug you close, forever make love with you, forever be with you.”
Slain went to speak when Helice entered the room.
“The healer is here, wondering if Hannah requires her skill,” Helice said.
While Slain did not want to lose this special moment with Hannah, he also did not want his wife’s injury to go unattended and possibly turn worse. Reluctantly, he said, “Bring Neata here.”
Hannah was disappointed. That was until her husband spoke.
“We will resume this discussion later, for there is much I have to say to you, wife.” Slain placed an ever so gentle kiss on her cheek.
It did not take Neata long to let Slain know that Hannah was fine and only time would heal her injury.
“I will tell Helice to make a comfrey poultice for you to help with the bruising. For tonight, I advise rest and sleep,” Neata said.
Hannah covered her mouth and her wince at the unexpected yawn that took hold, confirming Neata’s couns
el.
“She will rest,” Slain said as if he commanded it.
“I would have come to you sooner, but I was attending a birth at a nearby croft and only learned of it upon my return,” Neata said. “I am surprised Helice did not already treat your wound with a comfrey poultice.”
“I did not tell her about it,” Hannah confessed.
Neata shook her head. “Helice may have a prickly nature, but she is a good woman and knows well the healing ways. Trust her.” After a gentle pat on Hannah’s shoulder, Neata took her leave.
Hannah hoped to resume her discussion with her husband, but Helice appeared once again to let him know he had a message.
“Finish your broth and go to our bedchamber and rest. I will join you when I can.” Slain kissed her cheek and walked off with Helice.
Hannah could not stem her annoyance. Where did these sudden messages come from and why did they always seem to take him away from her? The thought that he would be gone again annoyed her all the more. There were things she needed to discuss with him before he discovered them on his own.
She ignored his order to finish her broth. Instead, she hurried off to his solar to let him know that she would wait in the Great Hall for him. She stopped abruptly not far from the door, having heard voices. He was not alone. The voices were low and barely distinguishable. Helice had told Slain a message awaited him, but it was a messenger who had delivered it.
Mysterious comings and goings, messages at all hours, visitors as well, and the locked east wing had her curious to learn what exactly was going on.
“He is busy. I can relate a message for you,” Helice said, causing Hannah to jump from the woman’s sudden presence.
Hannah turned to face Helice. “You know what goes on here. Why keep it from me?”
“Why keep the truth from your husband?” Helice countered.
Hannah was in no mood for the woman’s contentious nature. “Say and think what you will, Helice. I want nothing more than to see my husband kept safe so that we may share a decent life together.”
Her own words were nothing more than, wishes, hopes, and dreams. But wishes, hopes, and dreams had been what helped her through this difficult time and she would not let go of them now.
Embraced by a Highlander Page 17
