Highland Archer

by Hildie McQueen

  When his shoulders sagged, whether from relief or giving up, she kissed his temple. “If my brother did not consider you worthy, he would have done everything in his power to keep us apart. I know Ceardac enough. He admires you.”

  “You think so?” In the hope of his gaze, she saw the young foundling looking for acceptance. “Truly?”

  “Very much so. Ceardac would not have allowed our marriage unless he found you a man of worth. I stake my life on it.”

  Valent beamed and, immediately, everything was well. “We should go inside. It’s cold.”

  “Will you come to my bed tonight?”

  “Nay. I willna do anything to change your brother’s opinion of me. Once we are wed, I will sleep beside you always.”

  “Except when you go hunting, checking on the tenants, go to war, visit your brother or…”

  Valent chuckled and pulled her closer. “You know what I mean.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The Storm

  Arrow wheezed one last breath and went limp. Valent could not breathe. He gulped in an attempt to keep the sob from erupting. The pressure in his chest constricted so tightly, he feared his heart would stop. Frosty wind whipped his hair across his face, the coldness chilling the tears that fell without reserve down his cheeks.

  His steed dug into the ground with its front leg, seeming to send a message of understanding, or perhaps the animal was ready for his warm stable and food. They’d been out most of the day searching for the dog, his faithful companion, who’d gone missing the day before. At the moment, Valent didn’t care what the horse or anyone for that matter wanted, he pushed his face into Arrow’s soft fur and gave his grief free rein.

  Through all the hardships, beatings, brutal training, and when Tavish, the old man who’d raised him, died, Arrow had been the one constant source of comfort. Every day, they’d been together and every night the dog had ensured Valent’s well-being before sleeping.

  In truth, his life was so much better now. He had a home, a wife, and land to call his own. She’d even brought along a young boy, David, now almost ten years old. Everything he never dared to dream of having was a reality.

  Yet somehow, Arrow’s presence kept him grounded to the humble archer he’d once been, the young boy who’d been abandoned as a child and survived so much.

  Ariana would be worried about him and share in his sorrow, of that he was sure. And yet, he wasn’t ready to part with Arrow, not ready to face anyone and speak of how deeply he felt the loss of his devoted companion.

  The sun was low in the sky by the time he finished burying his dog. He pulled one of the dog’s namesakes from his quiver and stuck it into the ground to mark the spot, then went to his mount. Valent closed his eyes and took a deep breath, lifting his face to the starlit Highland sky and fortified himself.

  “Laird?” Two guardsmen remained a distance away. They must have caught sight of his grief earlier by the downcast of their gazes. “Are ye ready to return to the keep?” one of the men, Kael, asked. “Your wife, Lady McKenzie, sent us to find ye.”

  He’d yet to become accustomed to not only being laird, but to men working for him. Crisscrossing his back, the scars of the whippings ordered by the laird he once served made it hard to allow the title for himself at times.

  “Aye. Let us make our way back. Go on, I will follow.”

  The men looked at each other then back to him. “We cannot allow it. You must go before us,” the same man responded.

  As soon as he walked into the great room, Ariana looked up. So linked they were that one could pick up on the other’s emotions. Her eyes welled and she attempted a smile of comfort. Knowing he’d not want her to make a big fuss at the moment, she, instead, motioned for a servant to pour him mead.

  She moved gracefully toward him, her eyes never leaving his. “Would you like something to eat?” Her hand rested on his forearm and she leaned to him. “Why don’t I order you a hot bath? You can eat in our chambers.”

  She understood him too well. Chilled to the bone from not only the weather, but the grief that threatened to overtake him any moment, he could not keep from shivering. “I will go upstairs. Please don’t come up yet, see about your own meal.” He kissed her cheek and left the room.

  The fire in the hearth warmed the chamber, but he didn’t move to it. Instead, he went to the window and stared into the darkening sky. Things had changed so much since he’d left the McLeod Clan. He was a laird now. Responsible for the small keep and its people, and yet trapped inside him was the archer. The foundling, the one abandoned to fend for himself as a child, never left him. The feeling of not belonging raged constantly.

  He’d never admit to Ariana how often he wanted to mount and leave, riding until his horse could no longer carry him. He dreamed of an unknown destination where no one knew him or his past, the degradations, humiliations, and mistreatments.

  And yet, one look at his striped back and they’d know. Understand he was a man whose life had been anything but easy.

  “Laird?” his male servant walked in. “Your bath is ready in the adjoining chamber.” Jules, a younger man who’d served him for almost five years, had quickly become his confidant. Although fair of face and more built for battle than servitude, Jules was forced to serve where he could as he’d lost the bottom of his left leg as a child. The proud male refused to take no for an answer and insisted on completing most of the harder tasks required of him alone, without help.

  “Thank you, Jules.” He looked down at his attire. He’d forgotten how cold and wet he was. “Stop calling me Laird.”

  Jules attempted at a smile, knowing how much Valent hated the title. Jules often used it just to poke fun at him. Jules let out a breath. “I will miss Arrow. He was a good companion to me when you were not about.”

  Valent blinked away the moisture that came so quickly to his eyes, it shocked him. “Aye, he was. I believe he died of old age. Went into the forest to die alone. Proud one, he was.” He smiled at how often, as of late, the old dog attempted to keep up with him when he rode. More times than not, he’d had to scoop the animal up and carry him.

  “He bit me the first time I met him. I bit him back and we became friends after that.” Jules chuckled and Valent joined him, glad for the reprieve from his sorrow. “Aye, he bit Steaphan, as well. I think it was a test for him.”

  “I know this is not the time…” Jules began, “but I have a request of you.”

  “What is it, Jules? Feel free to speak. You know more than anyone, I don’t consider myself your laird, but more your friend.” Valent hoped Jules would not ask to leave; he couldn’t take another loss at the moment.

  “I wish to compete for archer this year.”

  Although Jules attempted to seem neutral, there was tenseness to his movements as he went to the adjoining chamber with Valent. He stood by the door, as Valent never wanted assistance with bathing. His hazel eyes met Valent’s as he waited for a reply.

  “You are a good marksman. I don’t see why you can’t. I’m surprised you haven’t in the past.”

  “I have never been allowed. Your brother doesn’t allow someone like me into the guard ranks.”

  It surprised him that Steaphan would make such a distinction. Archers, for the most part, fought from rooftops and parapets. They did ride directly to battle, but were the back ranks. But understandably, Jules would be hindered as archers did have to be battle ready in case the front ranks were overrun. “You are a good rider,” Valent said more to himself than to Jules. “You will compete.”

  Jules nodded, his shoulders falling. “I am good with the sword, as well. I train often. Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. It will be against me that you will compete to gain a position. Kael suggested it and I agreed. It would prove interesting to see how my archers stack up against me.”

  Jules’ eyebrows flew up. Valent was the best archer in the region. To beat him would be almost impossible.

  An hour later, Ariana en
tered the chamber, her beautiful golden-brown eyes going to his face immediately. She came to him and wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head onto his chest. Within minutes, the front of his tunic was wet from her tears. His wife was plush, an intoxicating blend of sensuality and strength. He pulled her face to his and kissed her salty cheeks, then took her mouth tenderly. “I know you had grown close to him, too. I didn’t mean to shut you out earlier.”

  “I understand. You had him since you were a boy. I imagine your heart is broken.” She sniffed and caressed his jaw.

  Although married for five years, he never lost his urgent need to take her, to have her under him, claiming her body over and over. Ariana seemed to understand where his mind wandered as she reached up and began pulling the pinnings from her hair, allowing the auburn tresses to fall past her shoulders.

  She moved back and pulled at the ties, freeing herself from the clothing around her waist, the bodice of her dress fell open and her upper body became bare to him.

  Valent remained still, not daring to move so she wouldn’t stop, his eyes devoured every inch of exposed skin, his arousal already hardening in expectation.

  She slipped her skirting away and he allowed his gaze to move from her bare feet up shapely legs to her rounded hips. Her triangle of reddish hair drew his attention next and his mouth fell open with the needed exhalation of breath.

  “Come to me, Valent. I need you.” She slid her hands down the front of her chest, her fingers splayed and she cupped her breasts. “I want to belong to you fully tonight.”

  His feet refused to budge. All he could do was stare at the beauty before him, needing more from her than just the physical at the moment. “Continue what you are doing.”

  At his husky command, her eyes widened, but she obeyed. Her fingers took each puckered tip and she pinched them. Then she closed her eyes and circled them.

  “Open your eyes and look at me,” he commanded, no longer able to keep from reaching for his own body, his hand sliding under his robing to wrap around his hardness.

  Ariana swallowed and her gaze flew to his. Her nostrils flared and enticing lips parted with each breath. She was as aroused as he was. He followed the trail as one of her hands left her mounds and slid down her stomach to reach between her legs. She slid her middle finger between her nether lips and gasped.

  “That’s it, Ariana.” He stroked his rock hard length once and then again. “Lay on the bed so I can see you better.”

  She moved to the bed and sat on the edge then looked up at him. “Join me, Valent.”

  “Lay back,” he bit out, still not moving. “Open your legs and touch yourself.”

  She did as he bid, her eyes glued to his.

  Her sex glistened with arousal. When her fingers moved through the curls to the center, he let out a moan with her. “That’s it.” He finally moved closer, pushing his robe open to allow him easier access to continue pleasuring himself.

  Ariana’s hand moved in a circular pattern. She squirmed and let out a soft moan. “I need you, Valent. Join with me.”

  “Not yet,” he said and looked down at her. “You are so beautiful.”

  It was apparent she was coming close to desperation, her breasts moved up and down with her harsh breaths and she arched up. “I can’t wait.”

  He pulled her hand away from her core and fell to his knees. She screamed when he covered her sex with his mouth and suckled her tiny nub. Ariana convulsed, her hands clutching the bedding as he feasted on her. When she began to settle, he nudged at her entrance with the tip of his rod, then drove in completely.

  Ariana cried out his name and fought to remain with him as he pumped in and out of her, but she was lost in the abyss of her passion. Valent didn’t care at the moment that she struggled to regain control, he didn’t need her to. He was too lost in his selfish need to take her completely, to lose himself in her.

  He pounded relentlessly into his wife until she’d long gone limp, totally consumed by the harshness of her climax. Her only responses to his drives were soft moans and gasps of breath. On and on he continued, his thrusts hard and steady. Ariana attempted to move, but he pinned her down, holding her arms over her head. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t finish, still rock hard.

  Needing more, he pulled out and she let out a sigh and attempted to move away. He wasn’t finished, remained fully erect. He rolled Ariana onto her stomach, pulled her up so her round orbs were high and thrust into her again. She mewled and struggled. He wasn’t sure if she tried to get away from him or was lost in passion. He held her hips with a grip that would leave marks on her fair skin and continued to drive, the hard sounds of his hips hitting her bottom filling the room.

  “Stop, Valent, I can’t take any more,” she cried out, but he was too blind with need. He continued to pound into her, driving in as deeply as he could before withdrawing almost completely. She was quiet when he finally spilled into her, his climax so hard, he fell over her and still continued pumping, his body relentless.

  Drained, he fell off of Ariana onto the bed, his chest heaving. Immediately, regret took over. He hated what he’d just done. He shouldn’t have allowed the loss of control.

  He looked to Ariana She lay still on her stomach, her eyes closed. Her mouth swollen from his hard kisses. “Ariana?”

  Ever so slowly her eyes opened and she looked to him but did not say anything.

  “I-I am so sorry.” He reached for her and she moved away, not far enough he couldn’t reach her, but enough to get her message across. Do not touch me.

  Her breath was ragged. “I asked you to stop.”

  The tightening in his chest brought a wince. What had he done? “I could not. I am so sorry.” Once again, he went to reach for her, but stopped himself. He moved to the edge of the bed and got up.

  She remained on her stomach with her legs draped to the floor. Her bottom already bruising from where he’d held her too tightly.

  Guilt assaulted him. He went to the wash basin and returned with a wet cloth. Ever so gently, he cleaned his wife, reverently covering every part of her while she remained limp. While continuously apologizing, he returned twice to rinse the cloth. Once he was satisfied she was thoroughly clean, he retrieved a soft shift and dressed her in it before lifting her in his arms and placing her onto the pillows and pulling the blankets over her. She rolled to her side and curled into a ball. “Leave. I do not wish you in the bed tonight, Valent.”

  He’d planned to lie next to her, to hold her and continue to apologize. But now he was banned.

  “I will remain in the room. If you need anything, please tell me.”

  She didn’t respond. Instead, he heard a soft sniff.

  He was an animal. He didn’t deserve her. This was the first time he’d taken her so hard. Nothing excused it, not his grief, not how difficult his past was. Whatever it took, he would make it up to his wife. Lying on the floor before the hearth, he made a vow not to touch his wife again.

  She deserved better than an animal like him.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  In spite of the chill in the air, the sun warmed Ariana’s back as she knelt in her garden. She’d harvested as many herbs as she could to dry in preparation for the winter.

  Her mind on her husband, she dug into the dirt with more vigor than necessary. Almost five days since the night he’d taken his grief out on her and they’d barely spoken. Valent was sorry. She understood he was riddled with guilt at having been so rough, taking her until she’d thought to pass out from the brutality of his assault. What had started out as a sensual game between them had turned dark and terrifying.

  As much as she wanted to relieve him of guilt, she’d yet to recover from it, her feelings hurt that the one person she trusted the most had hurt her, not stopping when she’d become fearful. Yes, she trusted him and knew deep down he would rather die than hurt her, but the actions of that night made it difficult to sleep and when he reached for her, she flinched without meaning to.

 
; The thumping of horses approaching sounded, the unmistakable pounding of the hooves on the ground accompanied by the creaking of a coach. She straightened to see the McLeod tartan colors on the men who rode toward her home.

  Her brother, Ceardac, laird of the southern McLeod Clan, and his wife, Lily, came. She’d missed Lily horribly since moving away with Valent.

  Ariana hurried toward the front gates just as Valent came up to stand beside her. He looked down at her, his expression grave. There were lines of worry etched on his face and shadows under his eyes. As much as she wanted to comfort him and reassure him that she’d forgiven his actions, it was hard to muster the words. This was not the moment to speak about it.

  Ceardac dismounted and went to the coach, opening the door for Lily, who descended with a babe on her hip, a girl they’d named Ana. A second child, a little boy named Donall, followed.

  The women hugged while Ceardac and Valent shook hands. Ariana then went to her brother and fell against him, allowing his strong embrace to comfort her.

  “This is a warm welcome, sister,” his deep voice echoed against her ear as she lay her head against his chest. “Are you well?”

  She couldn’t help the bristling of tears. “I am fine. I just miss you, brother. I miss home still at times.”

  His smile was warm, but his eyes narrowed when going to Valent, who stood back watching them.

  They went to the great room and, immediately, maids bustled in bringing drinks and light refreshments. Ariana lifted the babe and admired the chubby girl. “She has grown so much since last I saw her.”

  Lily beamed proudly. “Aye, she is quite a glutton. Drinks me dry.”

  The atmosphere became light as both she and Valent entertained the visitors. She noted that Valent never paid heed to children. Seeming discomforted by children.

  Although her friend never asked if she was with child, her friend’s gaze went to her stomach when she thought Ariana didn’t notice. Five years and still no child. She’d never considered that she could be barren.