Hannah ate supper alone, and after going back and forth from the solar to the Great Hall—impatiently waiting for her husband—and yawns coming one after the other, she decided to retire to their bedchamber. She slipped into her nightdress, not that she intended to go to sleep, she pulled a chair nearer to the hearth and with her knees tucked up close to her chin she sat there waiting for Slain.
The warmth of the fire and the long day soon had her eyes closing and she would snap back awake each time her head lulled heavily to the side. It was during one of those times that the sound of voices brought her fully awake.
Hannah went to hurry out of the chair, but her limbs, having been scrunched too long, protested and she had to stretch the ache out of them. All the while she listened, her ear turned toward the door that sat closed. If she could hear the voices through a closed door, then it meant the voices were raised. But where were they coming from.
Hannah finally got her limbs moving, though it was cautious steps she took to the door and even more cautiously eased it open. She heard the voices again and realized they were coming from the east wing, the door sitting ajar. It was easy to tread lightly, not make a sound, since her feet were bare, and she stopped at the door to listen.
Chapter 29
“Lies!”
Hannah jumped at the vicious accusation from a voice that held a familiar cord, but anger masked it.
“What if it is not?”
Her husband’s voice held an edge of frustration and a hint of anger.
“Why, though, for what purpose?”
“A question I asked myself,” Slain said.
“I must get this news to him. He will not be pleased.”
“He is rarely pleased.”
“Have ready what he wants from you upon my return.”
“I cannot do that even more so now than before,” Slain said.
Hannah wondered over their words, none making sense to her.
“He will not see it that way.”
“Then let him speak to me himself about it,” Slain said.
Their voices grew lower, more distant, and Hannah knew their talk was near done. She returned to the bedchamber, not wanting to be caught. She went to sit in the chair she had slumbered in when a sudden thought struck her, freezing her where she stood. She realized who the voice belonged to.
Roark.
What lies did he claim Slain had told him and what would not please Warrick? Had it been something to do with her? With their marriage? Would Warrick demand her return to his dungeon? She shuddered at the thought, jumping in fear as an arm coiled around her waist.
“You were expecting someone else besides your husband?” Slain teased in a whisper at her ear, then nibbled along it before turning her around in his arms. When he saw the worry in her eyes and the wrinkles in her brow, he tried to keep his voice gentle but was unable to keep the demand out of it. “What is wrong?”
Tired of secrets and since he had spoken of trust between them, Hannah spoke up, “I heard you speaking with Warrick’s man, Roark.”
“Then you heard me tell him of how you suffered there.”
“That was why he had shouted lies?” Hannah asked, wishing she had held her tongue since now Slain knew when she had come in on the conversation.
“I told him you were sold to the guard there and Roark oversees the dungeon guards. Learning that is a reflection on his command and Warrick is not tolerant of such matters. You do not fail Warrick and you never disobey him, the consequences are much too severe.”
Another shudder ran through her. “Yet knowing this, you refuse to give Warrick what he wants from you? What is it he wants from you?”
“You are not to concern yourself with it. That is between Warrick and me,” Slain said.
“If you do not obey him,” —she shook her head and stepped away from her husband— “you said yourself the consequences of such actions are severe.” She gasped at a sudden thought. “He would not make you return me to the dungeons, would he?” Hannah took a step back when a feral snarl curled his lip.
“No one, not your father, not the demon lord, not the devil himself would I let take you from me. You are mine and will forever remain so.”
Hannah felt the strength of his words. They settled deep inside her and wrapped around her heart, squeezing tight, and she took quick steps back to him.
His arms spread out to welcome her and not only did they wrap around her, but his lips claimed hers in a kiss that confirmed his every word. His loving kiss had her ignoring the pain that stung at her bruise. It was a small price to pay for the pleasure his kiss ignited in her.
Slain had been thinking about his wife since he had left her, but then she was forever in his thoughts and his heart. He hated being separated from her, especially with all that was going on. He would not take a chance of anything happening to her, of losing her. His heart would not just break… it would stop beating.
He scooped her up and carried her to the bed, slipping off her nightdress after placing her on her feet, then shedding his own garments and lifting her once again to place on the bed before following down after her.
He had been thinking of getting her naked in bed since he had left her earlier and of running his hands over every inch of her, kissing her in tender, intimate places that caused her to moan softly at first, just like she did now.
Hannah had longed all day for his touch even though they had only been intimate last night. She could not seem to get enough of him, of how when he touched her, slipped into her, joined with her that they seemed to merge as one. It was at that particular moment that she felt a part of him like she never felt before. That there was no separating them, that they truly were one.
She tossed her head back and let herself get lost in their lovemaking.
They lay in each other’s arms, their bodies damp with sweat, their lips swollen from endless kisses, and the last of their climaxes fading away. Not long after, they both fell asleep.
Hannah woke suddenly, her eyes opening wide. She did not know what woke her, though as she lay there she realized it had been her father’s angry voice in her mind that had woken her. She lay there trying to rid herself of it, to think of anything but him. It did not work. His words came back again and again to haunt her and along with them came the guilt.
Had she truly been the cause of her mother and father’s problems? If it had not been for her would her mum had not stopped loving him? She turned her head to look at her husband, sleeping soundly beside her, his arm draped over her waist. The thought alone of losing his love was so painful it brought a tear to her eye and heaped even more guilt on her for possibly having robbed her mum of what she now had.
With her mind in turmoil, she eased out of bed so as not to disturb her husband and walked quietly over to the hearth. She added another log to the fire and watched it catch, the flames dancing high.
No matter how hard she tried, she could not get her mind off what her mum and da had lost and how it could possibly happen to her and Slain. Her heart ached and she could not stop tears from falling.
A warm arm circled her waist and she turned and buried her face against her husband’s naked chest.
Slain felt her tears fall on his chest and he wrapped strong arms around her and held her close as she wept. As difficult as it was for him to remain silent, he did so. She needed him to hold her while she cried, not question her tears, though he had a good idea of who had caused them.
Though her tears seemed never-ending, it did not take long for them to stop and when they finally did and the after sobs had subsided, Slain said softly, “Talk to me, wife.”
Hannah raised her head, the lingering tears blurring her vision, though not enough that she could not see concern in her husband’s dark eyes. She told him everything her father had said to her and before she could express her own fear of it happening to them, Slain was quick to speak.
“That will never happen to us.”
“You cannot be certain,�
� she argued.
“I can be certain.”
“But what if—”
“I do not waste my time on what if,” he said.
Hannah stepped out of his arms. “You dismiss it as if it is unimportant.”
“It is, since it will never come to pass,” Slain insisted.
Hannah shook her finger at him. “You do not know that.”
“I do know that and do not shake that finger at me, wife,” he warned.
Hannah threw her hands up and took several more steps away from him. “You are not taking this seriously. You think you can dictate this, make it go away, and yet you cannot. It is a very real possibility that could eventually divide us.”
Hannah gasped as Slain rushed at her, grabbing her by the arms and pinning her up against the closed door.
“Do you love me, wife?” he demanded.
His question stunned her but did not keep her from saying, “Aye, I love you, husband, and always will.”
“Then what else matters?” He did not give her time to respond. “There are different ways to be intimate between a man and a woman and if your father truly loved your mother, he would have seen to keeping them both satisfied. He has no one to blame but himself for his failed marriage.”
Hannah went to speak and Slain pressed a finger to her lips. “Now, wife, I am going to show you one of those ways a husband can please a wife, though you are already familiar with it.”
He went down in front of her, his hands spreading her legs gently and she gasped, her arms flinging out from her sides as his mouth settled between her legs and his tongue licked and teased her tender nub.
It was wicked, simply wicked and she loved every minute of it. When his fingers slid inside her, she thought she would climax and yelled out his name. It was not until she called out his name three times, each more franticly than the previous one, that he finally scooped her up and carried her to the bed.
She spread her legs and reached her arms out to him after he laid her down and he quickly dropped down over her and into her in one fluid motion that had her gasping with pleasure.
Hannah held him tight, never wanting to let him go, aching to feel that moment when they became one, when their hearts joined, and their souls met. She could not stop a tear from falling at that moment, since it made her realize that nothing could ever come between them. Their love would never let it.
Slain’s climax was so intense that he roared with pleasure, though it was cut short when he saw the tear slip down his wife’s cheek. He almost pulled out of her, thinking he had hurt her, but she shook her head, smiled, and held him tight, refusing to let him go, and he let the last of his climax carry him to complete satisfaction.
Slain wiped at her tear with his thumb before slipping off her and taking her in his arms as he rolled on his back. “I am assuming that is a tear of joy?”
“It is,” she claimed happily.
“I am glad, since your other tears break my heart.”
“Truly?” she asked, raising her head off his chest to look up at him.
“Truly, so I will endeavor to keep you from those tears as much as possible.”
She went to kiss his cheek and he grabbed her chin tenderly, stopping her.
“Damn, I ached for you so badly I forgot about your bruise and now it looks more swollen than before.”
“I do not care. The bruise will eventually heal, but I will never get back the time you were unable to kiss me.”
“I will not see you in more pain. We will be careful,” he ordered.
Hannah smiled sweetly. “As you say, husband.” She settled her head on his chest and snuggled comfortably against him.
“I mean it, Hannah,” Slain warned.
She raised her head once again and this time her smile was wicked. “I tell you what, husband, I will make certain we are careful and not disturb my bruise if you promise to show me more ways a loving husband and wife can please each other.”
Slain smiled just as wickedly. “You have my word on that, wife.”
Slain woke the next morning to Hannah slipping her tunic over her shift. “Where do you go, wife?”
“To fetch us food so that we may eat undisturbed and have more time alone,” she said and hurried into her shoes.
A thump at the door had Slain saying, “Too late, Helice has brought us food and as soon as she leaves you can shed those garments and get back in bed with me, where you belong.”
“You read my mind, husband,” Hannah said with a grin and hurried to the door.
She threw it open with a flourish and screamed as a man, his face too bloodied to recognize collapsed against her, taking them both to the floor.
Chapter 30
Slain sprang out of bed, rushing to his wife’s defense, grabbing the man and yanking him off Hannah, ready to do even more damage to him. Slain’s anger fled him when he recognized the man.
“Melvin.”
Hannah rushed to her feet. “Take him to my bedchamber while I get Helice.”
Slain lifted the injured man with little difficulty while Hannah fled down the stairs. Her mind was filled with questions. What had happened to Melvin? Who had done this to him? Why had he come here? How had he even gotten here?
The east wing. It always seemed to come back to that mysterious wing of the keep and this time she intended to get answers.
“You are needed,” Hannah said as she flew into the kitchen, grabbed Helice by the hand, and hurried her out. Helice did not hesitate and Hannah knew the woman feared something had happened to Slain.
When Helice saw the bloodied body on Hannah’s bed, she paled and her hand went out to brace herself against the doorframe.
Hannah hurried to alleviate her fears. “It is Melvin.”
A relieved breath shot from Helice and she hurried to the bed.
“Tell me what you need,” Hannah said anxious to help.
“We need Neata, but I believe she was to leave today to visit the outer crofts,” Helice said.
“Hopefully, she has not left yet. I will go see,” Slain said from the open doorway, tucking his plaid in at the waist as he turned to leave.
He had dressed after placing Melvin on the bed and was ready to do whatever was necessary to help the man, and Hannah was grateful.
“Stay with him while I get what is needed,” Helice ordered.
Hannah pulled a chair close to the bed and gently took hold of Melvin’s hand. His knuckles were scraped and swollen, blood caked on them. He had fought, but then Melvin was a seasoned warrior and would have it no other way, even if victory was not possible.
“You are safe, Melvin,” she said softly. “Slain fetches the healer Neata and between her and Helice they will make sure you get well.”
Melvin fought to speak, but he grimaced horribly with pain when he did.
“It is all right. Do not worry. You are safe.”
He struggled to speak and though Hannah urged him to stay quiet, he managed to say, before passing out, “Nial... fears.”
What did Melvin mean? Was he saying Nial feared something? Nial always seemed fearless to her, but then no one was completely fearless. What could Nial possibly fear? If it was even Nial he had referred to.
Helice entered the room and chased Hannah out of the way. She got busy cleaning the blood off Melvin’s face. It became obvious that he had taken a bad beating. One eye was completely swollen shut and the other close to it. It appeared as if his nose had been broken and the one corner of his lip was caked with blood and had swollen considerably. She prayed the rest of his body had not suffered as badly.
Hannah felt grateful that her silent prayers had been heard when Neata arrived, though she was not happy when Neata insisted that Hannah and Slain leave her and Helice alone to tend Melvin. Hannah hesitated to comply, worried for her friend, but Slain’s firm arm around her shoulder had her out of the room before she could protest and when the door closed in her face, she buried her face in her husband’s chest.
His powerful arms always comforted and protected, leaving her feeling that she was not alone and most of all that she was loved.
“Neata and Helice will take good care of him,” Slain said.
Hannah had no doubt they would and with that reassuring thought, she glanced up at her husband. “Melvin tried to speak, though managed only two words. Nial fears.”
“That is odd,” Slain said. “Nial does not seem to fear anything. Come, we will get ourselves food and talk.”
Hannah nodded and continued to offer silent prayers for Melvin as she followed her husband down the stairs.
It was not until they sat at a table in the Great Hall, clouds outside the windows and thunder rolling in the distance, did either of them speak.
“Does Melvin betray my father?” Hannah asked the thought having crossed her mind more than once.
“He does what is best for his clan,” Slain said.
“He always has, but to go against my father,” —she shook her head— “I never would have thought that. So Imus meets with Melvin to get information from him. Melvin is the one who betrays, not Imus.”
“Things, events, happen to change people,” he said, handing her a chunk of bread, determined to see that she ate since she had done nothing but poke at the food there. “You have learned that yourself as have I.”
“I suppose,” Hannah said, though she shook her head. “Still, I find it difficult to believe.” She shook her head again. “If this attack had anything to do with his betrayal, my father’s rage would have had him running a sword through Melvin. And what brought Melvin here?”
“That I do not know. No meeting was presently planned. Unless he learned something of importance and was bringing it to me. Someone could have followed him.” Slain pointed to the piece of bread she held. “Eat. We will have answers as soon as he is able to speak.”
Hannah did not know if it was a good sign or bad that Neata appeared, though the grave expression she wore seemed to signify the latter.
Neata wasted no time in delivering the news. “What injures I see are not enough damage for him not to wake, and he refuses to wake. I fear that he suffered more damage than I can see.”
Embraced by a Highlander Page 25
