by Bree Wolf
“I’m sorry,” Henrietta mumbled once more, uncertain how to understand Moira’s strange behaviour.
After a few more enquiring questions as to what had happened between her and Connor, Henrietta excused herself, stating that she had a chill in her bones from riding out all day without a coat. It was not a lie; however, what Henrietta needed more than anything in that moment was to get away from their questions and be alone as her thoughts and emotions tumbled through her body in a rather disorderly fashion.
Returning to their bedchamber, she changed and then sat down in front of her vanity to brush her entangled hair. Unlike before, the brush easily undid the knots, and Henrietta smiled at herself, her fingers brushing over a short strand that ended in line with her jaw. Although she had meant it as a challenge, her heart rather enjoyed her husband’s reaction to her short hair, and she remembered how easily his lips had found her neck now that her hair was out of the way.
A shiver went over her at the memory, and Henrietta sighed, knowing she could not ignore forever what had happened that day.
Lost in the moment, she had let down her guard and allowed him closer than was wise, and Rhonda was right. Something had changed. What would they do now?
Standing by the window, Henrietta stared out at the darkening sky when footsteps echoed from down the hall. A moment later, the door opened and Henrietta turned to face her husband. “What did the messenger say?” she asked, desperate to speak of anything but the kiss they had shared that afternoon.
Connor sighed. “At first, he insisted that Brogan had no knowledge of his daughter’s whereabouts, claiming that she had been snatched from her room in the middle of the night.”
“But that wasn’t so,” Henrietta concluded, intrigued with the situation laid before her.
“It seems not,” her husband agreed, his face weary. “Apparently, not only Fiona is missing, but also the chieftain’s lad, Liam, as well.”
“Oh.” Henrietta stepped closer, her arms wrapped around herself at the sudden chill that had seized her. “You believe they ran away together?”
Connor nodded.
“But why?”
Looking up, her husband met her eyes. “Because they’re in love.”
A shiver went over Henrietta at the intensity of his gaze, and she quickly averted her own, turning back to looking out the window. “If they are in love, why can’t they simply…?”
“Because Brogan refuses his consent,” her husband explained, a hint of annoyance in his voice.
“Why?”
“I do not know,” he admitted. “Brogan and Reid are good men. From what my father once told me, they used to be friends when they were young.”
“Then what happened?”
“They refuse to speak about it. However, my father believed that a woman came between them.”
Taking a deep breath, Henrietta turned around. “What will you do when you find them?”
Holding her gaze, her husband stepped closer. “I do not know. If her father canna be convinced to give his consent−”
“You would do that?” Henrietta snapped as her eyes narrowed. “You would force them apart because of their fathers’ misgivings?”
Taking a deep breath, Connor gritted his teeth. “I canna say. I need to hear all sides before making a decision.”
“Why is it your decision?”
“Because I’m their chief.”
Henrietta snorted, “And that gives you the right to decide their fate?”
“Believe me,” her husband growled, “I’m as displeased with this situation as ye. However, my hands are tied. I have a duty to my clan to settle disputes−”
“Disputes? These are merely disputes to you?” Henrietta shook her head. “I doubt Fiona and Liam would see it that way, having the choice taken out of their hands. Is it not also your duty to help them? But all you are concerned with is their fathers’ wishes.”
“’Tis not,” her husband snapped. “However, this is not a simple matter. All sides need to be considered.”
“But ultimately, it will be your decision,” she accused, and before he could answer added, “Is that why you spread rumours of Alastair’s incompetence so that you would be named chief?”
At her words, the muscles in his jaw tensed and his eyes narrowed. For a brief moment, she thought he would storm toward her when his posture suddenly relaxed and he shook his head, a knowing smile curling up the corners of his mouth. “For a second there, Lass, I was ready to strangle ye,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. Then the expression on his face sobered, and he stepped toward her, eyes dark with emotion. “Ye canna fool me, Lass. I know what drives ye to say these things.”
Henrietta frowned.
“Ye seek to drive me away,” he explained, his gaze holding hers. “Ye’re trying to anger me because ye’re afraid of what happened today.”
Swallowing, Henrietta averted her eyes, knowing only too well that he was right.
“I am not one to deceive others,” he said in hushed tones as though whispering a secret. “I never lied to ye about what I wanted or not. I have no desire to be chief, and I never did. However, I feel a duty to my people.” Again, his hand settled under her chin, and reluctantly, Henrietta raised her eyes to his. “But that is not what ye wish to know, is it, Lass?”
Holding his gaze, Henrietta took a deep breath. “Why did you marry me?”
A soft smile came to his face as he stepped forward and his arms came around her, pulling her closer. He lowered his head to hers until the tip of his nose almost touched hers. Then he whispered, “I married ye, Lass, because I love ye.”
Trembling, Henrietta stared at her husband as the warmth in her heart grew, struggling to hold at bay the icy cold fingers that clawed at her soul. Did he speak the truth?
“Did ye not see that, Lass?” he whispered, and an amused smile touched his lips. “Ye might be the only one in Greyston who didna know.” His eyes strayed from hers, tracing the curve of her mouth. “I still have a kiss to claim.”
Although delicious tingles swept through Henrietta at the thought of his lips on hers, she almost opened her mouth to protest his reasoning. After all, they had already shared a kiss that day. However, when his dark eyes looked into hers and his warm breath tickled the side of her neck, all fight left her body. Her hands ran up his arms and curled into his shirt, pulling him closer.
A soft chuckle rose from his throat before he lowered his mouth to hers.
Closing her eyes, Henrietta felt her heart skip a beat as his lips brushed against hers, only to freeze a moment later when a loud knock sounded on the door.
Startled, Henrietta’s eyes flew open, and she saw the angry tension in her husband’s jaw before he spun around and strode toward the door.
Pulling it open, he growled, “What is it?”
A young man stood outside their chamber, unease clear on his face as he found himself at the other end of her husband’s anger. “Eh…I…eh…another messenger has arrived, Chief. Sent by Reid Brunwood.”
Taking a deep breath, Connor nodded, and the young man turned on his heel and fled back down the corridor. For a short moment, her husband closed his eyes and rested his head against the side of the door. Then he turned to her, regret clearly visible in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Lass. I need to go.” However, he didn’t move, and for a moment, he simply stood there, staring at her, and the muscles in his jaw tensed. Then as though having made a decision, he strode toward her.
Before having taken two steps though, he stopped, gritting his teeth. “If I kiss ye now, I’ll never leave,” he murmured to himself before his eyes met hers, a promise burning in them. “We’ll finish this later.”
Then the door closed behind him.
Chapter Eighteen − Only for Tonight
After pacing the length of her bedchamber for what seemed like hours, Henrietta finally changed into her nightgown and went to bed. Torn between desire and fear, she tossed and turned, hoping to hear her husband’s
footsteps approaching the door and at the same time fearing that she would.
I married ye, Lass, because I love ye.
His words echoed in her mind, and Henrietta couldn’t deny the silent joy that danced in her heart. No one had ever loved her, and somewhere deep down, she thought that no one even could. After all, was she not an arguing, disrespectful and antagonistic woman? Who would love someone like that? How could he? Or had he not spoken the truth?
Rolling over, Henrietta raked her hands through her hair as Fear’s cold fingers squeezed the joy from her heart. He couldn’t have been sincere. He had only spoken of love because men always did when they sought to get their way. And yet, she couldn’t help but wonder why he had married her if not for love.
As contradicting emotions wreaked havoc in her body, Henrietta alternately cried into her pillow and pummelled it with her fists. When exhaustion finally stilled her hands, she rolled onto her side and closed her eyes, hoping to escape the decision to refuse or accept him.
If she were asleep upon his return, surely he would not wake her; would he?
Silence fell over the room, and Henrietta’s aching heart calmed as she tried her best to fall asleep. And yet, her mind raced with all the implications of that day and wouldn’t allow her the sweet oblivion of slumber.
When footsteps finally echoed to her ear, her strained nerves almost snapped.
Forcing herself to lie still, she listened as the door opened, then closed. She heard her husband approach the bed. Awfully tempted to open her eyes, Henrietta squeezed them shut instead, her fingers curling into the blanket.
When his boots thudded onto the floor, she flinched, ready to bolt from the bed. However, her limbs were too exhausted, and she breathed in relief when they wouldn’t move. Straining her ears, she heard the soft rustling of fabric as her husband changed into his nightshirt. His bare feet barely made a sound on the floor as he rounded the bed. He blew out the candle he had brought in, set it on the table in the corner and slid into bed.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Henrietta waited, listening for the sounds of him having fallen asleep.
Instead, however, he rolled over closer to her, and she could feel the warmth radiating off his body. “I know ye’re not asleep, Lass,” he whispered, and his warm breath tickling her skin rose goose bumps on her body.
Terrified, and yet, intrigued, Henrietta remained quiet.
An amused chuckle escaped his throat before he slid even closer, and she could feel his body moulding itself to hers. Then his arm reached over, and he brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, his fingertips gently grazing her skin.
At his touch, Henrietta flinched, but she forced herself to ignore him, squeezing her eyes shut.
“Stubborn as a mule,” he mumbled into her ear, a hint of delight lacing his voice. A moment later, his hand settled on her shoulder, urging her to face him. “I promise I willna bite ye.”
At his words, an excited tremble went through her, and yet, her whole body ached for his touch. Taking a deep breath, she rolled onto her back and met his gaze.
Looking down at her, his eyes held hers for a moment, then ventured lower, tracing the line of her jaw, down her neck to the small lace thread that tied her nightgown in the front. “D’ye think it wise to retire to bed when ye still owe me a kiss?” he whispered, meeting her gaze once more. “’Tis dangerous to tempt a man in such a situation.”
Her eyes narrowed at the veiled challenge in his words. “I am not afraid,” she insisted stubbornly.
He grinned. “Liar.”
Regarding him closely, Henrietta drew in a deep breath, then slid her hand backwards and under her pillow, her hand reaching for the small dagger she kept by her side at all times.
Seeing her intention, her husband’s hand whipped out and like a striking cobra grabbed her wrist before she could reach the small blade. An amused smile curled up his lips as he shifted, and she felt his body pinning her to the mattress. “There is no need for ye to defend yerself, Lass. I promised ye I willna take more than ye’re willing to give. And although I am tempted …” he glanced down at her lips, and his voice trailed off as he lowered his head to hers.
Feeling the cold steel of her dagger brush against her fingertips, Henrietta held his gaze, and for once in her life, she did not feel conflicted. As her demons slept, a soft smile curled up her lips, and seeing it, her husband’s eyes lit up like two brilliant stars in the night sky.
“Ye’re beautiful when ye smile, Lass,” he whispered before his lips brushed against hers, gentle and patient, asking for permission.
Abandoning all thoughts of retrieving her dagger, Henrietta withdrew her hand from under the pillow, and her arms came around him as though they belonged there, pulling him closer. Her mouth opened, and she answered his kiss, asking for more.
Like a beast suddenly unleashed, his lips devoured hers as his hands moved up her body, over her arms to her shoulders, tracing the slender line of her neck until he buried them in her hair.
Feeling herself respond in ways she had never expected, Henrietta strained against him, wishing that this night would never end.
As his mouth left hers, a hint of disappointment came over her until his lips travelled over her chin, along her jawline and down her neck, kissing and nipping as they went.
Closing her eyes, Henrietta moaned as swirls of pleasure danced on her skin.
Gently, he bit her earlobe before he suddenly stilled. Resting his head in the crook of her neck, he took a deep breath. Then he lifted his head, and even in the dark, she could see the tension on his face as his eyes searched hers. “I want ye, Lass,” he whispered, his voice choked with desire. “Tell me if ye want me as well.”
Biting her lip, Henrietta stared up at him, feeling oddly reminded of the night before their wedding when he had come upon her in the rose garden. Then, too, he had asked her for permission, and she had refused to give it. Could she grant it now? Had she not already signalled her agreement? Did he truly need to hear her say the words?
Unable to speak her heart’s desire, Henrietta reached up to pull him back down to her as her head lifted off the pillow, her lips straining to reclaim his.
However, a breath away from her mouth, he pulled back, a frown on his face. “Ye canna say it, can ye?”
As her head sank back into the pillow, Henrietta averted her gaze, her cheeks hot with embarrassment.
A frustrated growl rose from his throat, and his hands dug into the pillow beside her head. “Look at me, Lass,” he commanded. “Look at me!”
Reluctantly, Henrietta met his gaze, surprised at what she saw there. It was not anger that drove him, but exhaustion.
“I want ye, Lass,” he whispered, “and I’ve told ye so. More than that, I’ve given ye my heart openly and without restraint.” He swallowed, and she could see that he, too, was afraid of how vulnerable his words made him. “Despite how strong and confident I might appear to ye, Lass, can ye not imagine that fear also holds a spot in my heart? Can ye not see that I, too, am afraid to be rejected by the woman I love?” He took a deep breath, and she could feel his heart thudding in his chest. “I need ye to tell me if ye want me as well. If not,” he closed his eyes and shook his head, “I willna bother ye again. I swear!”
Frozen in place, Henrietta stared at him, knowing that if she could not overcome her fears, she would lose him for good. Worse, she would hurt him, break his heart and make him regret that he had ever given it to her.
All her life Henrietta had been afraid to entrust her heart to someone, afraid to be vulnerable and at the mercy of another’s whims. Never before had she held someone else’s heart in her own hands. Never before had she felt the weight of that responsibility.
Only now, when her husband looked down at her with a longing so desperate that it nearly broke her heart did Henrietta understand that fear was a double-edge sword in more than one way for she was not the only one who would suffer. His heart, too, was at risk.
Inhalin
g deeply, she closed her eyes and opened her mind to the desires hidden deep in her heart. And despite her own fears, she had to admit that she had come to care for her husband. Deeply even.
No matter what she had done, she had not been able to sway him from her side. They had fought and argued, and yet, he had stayed, his words not always kind, but honest. He had always treated her kindly though and shown her the respect she so longed for.
Opening her eyes, Henrietta met his gaze, and a soft smile came to her lips. “I do want you,” she whispered, ignoring the doubts that clawed at her heart. Right there in that moment, they could not hurt her for his love wrapped her in a protective shield they could not overcome.
He stared at her as though unsure whether or not to believe his ears before his eyes closed and relief washed over his face. When he looked at her once more, all uncertainty and exhaustion had vanished. Instead, his eyes spoke of things yet unexperienced, and as he lowered his head towards hers, he whispered, “Trust me, Lass, if only tonight.”
Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Henrietta closed her eyes, enjoying the sensations his touch stirred within her. “Tonight.”
She could not promise more.
Chapter Nineteen − Broken
Feeling his heart hammering in his chest, Connor reached out and pulled his wife into his arms, cradling her head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of her head and sighed as the memories of what they had just shared floated into his mind.
Although hesitant at first, she had warmed to his touch quickly, her own hands growing bolder with each moment. She had smiled and sighed, moaned and gasped, and for once, her face had been devoid of fear, distrust and suspicion. Instead, pleasure and even a hint of love had shone in her eyes, and Connor had lost his heart to her all over again.
However, as they lay in the dark, their bodies gleaming with sweat and their hearts racing, he felt her body stiffen: her muscles tense and a slight shiver shake her.
