by Lynda Lukow
She took a deep breath. “I have no gift to give ye on our wedding night.” The pain imposed by her confession hurt worse than any she had ever felt.
Gavin shrugged. “Ye had no idea I wished to marry ye now. Why would ye think I expected a gift?” He searched her face as if looking for an answer.
“Ye misunderstand—” Her throat tightened, preventing her from saying the words. Tears threatened, but she blinked them back. They would surely turn to steam if they rolled onto her heated cheeks.
He took a quick breath and straightened. “Ye tell me ye no longer be a virgin?”
Fear crept up her spine. He had never before raised his voice. She dropped her face into her hands and nodded.
“I swore I would ask ye no questions, but I must break that oath just once. Did ye give yerself willingly?”
She raised her head and glared. “I be not a whore. I did what be needed to protect my life and remain close to Lady Kasey.”
He sat and reached out for her.
She swatted his hand.
He smiled and pulled her onto his lap. “I canna claim to know how the Camerons feel about their brides, but Mackintoshes believe that a woman taken by force remains a virgin.”
Now she did not understand.
“The maidenhead be not a virgin’s true asset. The bride’s pure heart matters most. If ye can tell me ye loved none who has bedded ye, then ye still be an innocent to me.”
Evonne burst into tears. “I hated him. He used and abused me.” She sniffed. “I fear I may never respond to yer touch. Ye deserve better.”
“Of all the women I have known, only ye have captured my heart. I shall ask ye but one more time. Will ye be donning a kirtle or wearing yer wrap?”
****
Gavin sat by the window in the great hall. The sinking sun meant the end of another day, the end of his misery.
Granted, his proposal had not gone the way he planned. He hoped to work up to the subject of marriage, to list the reasons why their union made sense, but the servants’ chatter stole his chance to woo her with honeyed words. At least he had the rest of his life to prove his love true.
Assuming she ever came belowstairs.
Scottish law permitted him to marry her with or without her consent or presence. But he needed her to enter the union of her own free will. Good Lord, how he needed her.
He should not have wheedled her consent, but she held his heart. In return he would keep her safe and make her happy. Destiny had reunited them, and he would see they never parted again.
“Gavin?”
He looked over his shoulder. His breath caught. An angel, shrouded in white linen and lace, gripped the sides of the chair two men lowered to the rushes. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked, but his mouth would not form the words.
Her smile did not reach her eyes.
He knelt, took hold of her hands, but could not look in her eyes. “Ye need not do this.”
She pulled one hand away and drew it along his jaw. He inhaled when she pushed his chin up. “Ye be certain ye want me?”
“Aye. Ye dinna ken, but I had planned on taking ye from Inverness to my home.”
“My laird would have paid no ransom.”
“My sweet, no mon has enough gold to free ye from me.”
“Much has changed since Inverness.”
He lifted the hand he still held and placed it over his heart. “Not here. Please, tell me ye will be my wife.”
****
Night had fallen by the time the MacDonnell offered his first toast to the bride and groom. Gavin hoped to leave immediately after the ceremony, but the laird insisted the hour too late and pleaded the need to celebrate. He claimed that Evonne had become like a daughter to him, then threatened if Gavin deprived him the joy of a feast, he would have to forbid the Mackintoshes access to his land.
Gavin did not wish to delay Connor’s happiness, but the thought of spending the night on a soft pallet with his wife in his arms offered too much temptation. Besides, Dillon’s missive had not implied urgency.
The candles throughout the hall had burned down to nubs by the time Gavin thanked the MacDonnell for his generosity and asked to be excused. He carried Evonne up to her bedchamber and placed her on the pallet.
She sat upright, her legs extended before her. “Do ye like my kirtle? This be the gown the laird’s wife wore when they married.”
“I would like to help ye remove it.”
“Gavin—”
“Please, my sweet, dinna deny me this privilege.” He sat behind her and removed the pins and ribbons that bound her hair atop her head. He threaded his fingers through the loosened tresses. “Ye smell like a hillside of honeysuckle.”
He pushed her hair over one shoulder and unlaced the ribbons closing the gown. “Lift yer hip, please.”
She took her time, but complied.
He pulled the length up above her nicely rounded bottom. “Now the other side.”
After he gathered the cloth about her waist, he eased the garment over her head. Wee bumps covered her arms. “Be ye cold?”
Her denial meant she felt the magic, too. He had no intention of consummating their marriage before she fully healed, but he could not resist touching her. He lifted her onto his lap and slid up to the head of the pallet.
For the first time in his life, he did not mind having his back against a wall. How could he? He had his arms wrapped around his love, her bottom hugged his manhood, and her breath feathered his neck.
“Gavin?”
“Hmm?”
“Ye plan to sleep in yer clothes?”
“I think it wise.”
She untied the lace of his tunic, then slipped her hand through the neckline. Icy fingers teased his breast. Warm lips flitted along his neck.
He stilled her hand and leaned away.
“Ye dinna want me?”
He set her aside and placed her hand on his groin. “I be not made of stone, wife.”
“Ye utter a falsehood, husband. Ye be hard as a rock.”
“Ye could tempt a saint” He leaned down and kissed her thoroughly. “We wait until ye heal.”
“Ye can heal me.” She gazed into his eyes as she lifted her chemise over her head. “Love me, please.”
He gritted his teeth. “Ye be sure?” She worried her lip, and he waited what seemed like an eternity for her nod. Tears spiked her lashes.
“Do ye trust me?”
He held his breath, thankful this nod did not take as long.
A good while later, as he drifted off to sleep, she sighed. He grinned and rolled over to collect her into his arms. “Did I hurt ye?”
She bumped her head against his chin when she shook her head. “I dinna ken it could be like this.”
“Now, my love, ye no longer be a virgin.”
****
A gentle finger pushed her hair from her eyes, then stroked her cheek. Every muscle in her body tightened. She could not tolerate another conquest.
Warm, moist lips kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips. The featherlight touches penetrated her sleep-fogged brain. Her eyes snapped open. He winked.
Heat rose to her cheeks, but she managed a trembling smile. She hoped someday the memories of past sins would fade like morning fog and prayed Gavin would be patient.
“A kiss afore I leave?”
Hoping to replace the pain his words caused, she bit her lip. Had she repulsed him so much he needed to escape already? She swallowed hard. “Ye dinna find our coupling to yer satisfaction?”
His eyes grew wider than she thought possible, but he quickly narrowed them. Their slits mirrored the line of his lips. “Ye think me no better than Camerons?”
He bounded from the bed and stared down at her. “To leave ye behind after we have shared the most wondrous night of my life pains me more than I can say.”
“Then take me with ye.” The hope wrought by his words drained when he shook his head. Determined not to cry, she pinched her eyes shut. She
would be thankful he had gifted her with one night.
She slid away from the hand he laid on her cheek. She could not keep her sorrow, her anger, contained if he touched her.
“Look at me, Evonne.”
She shook her head.
He chuckled.
“I be delighted ye find humor in this.”
“Ye be too stubborn.” He reached out, and then drew his hand back to his side. “I canna be so selfish.”
“I dinna understand.”
“I dinna regret checking on the battered woman or marrying my love, but I canna delay retrieving Connor any longer.”
“Connor? He be coming for Kasey in Hunter’s stead?”
He massaged his temples. “Ye could say such.”
“What in blazes has taken so long? She believes Hunter has forsaken her.”
“It be a long story. I will explain when I return.”
“Ye must take me with ye.”
“The journey be too difficult.”
“I have endured much more than a hard ride for my lady.” The anger that flashed in his eyes made her wish she could pull back her words. “Will Connor bring ye with him?”
“Nay. One of us must remain at our holding.”
She shook her head. “I must convince him to bring ye along.”
“Why?”
“I will explain later.” She rolled over and grabbed her chemise from the floor. “Prepare the horses whilst I dress. And be quick aboot it.”
Chapter Eleven
The journey back to the Mackintosh manor took a day longer than Gavin hoped. Mayhap he should have ignored Evonne’s argument and left her in the MacDonnell’s care. But something in her unspoken words raised his hackles, and he hoped to pry the truth from her.
To set her at ease, the first day he spoke of his family, including how and why Connor came to be known as “Hunter.” He also talked of his service, the king’s efforts to gain Kasey’s release, and Dillon’s access to the Cameron holding. She assured him of his younger brother’s health.
The second day his wife spoke little of her own trials, but dwelled on Kasey’s well-being. Evonne told him that the lady worked too much, ate too little, and slept even less. Again her unspoken words screamed.
By the third day, their wills clashed. Gavin wanted to slow their pace. Evonne pleaded with him to ride harder. He feared the strain would delay her recovery. She reminded him of her strength. He called a halt when dusk hid the trail. After another argument, his common sense ceded to her will.
Dawn broke just before they crested the hills surrounding the Mackintosh lands. Gavin reined the horse to a stop when she gasped. “What say ye?”
“This holding be more fortified than Inverness. Do ye think the laird will let us pass?”
Gavin chuckled. “Welcome home, wife.”
“This be yer home?”
“Our home.” He looked at the dark stone fortress as if seeing it for the first time. “It be quite foreboding, aye?”
“Nay, husband. It looks secure.” She laid her hand on his cheek. “Before we enter I have a request.”
He raised a brow.
“Promise ye will go with yer brother.”
“I burn to avenge the wrongs ye have suffered.” He kissed her palm. “But with Dillon’s fate already in the hands of the enemy, I must stay, ready to step up if aught happens to Connor.”
“Mayhap he should return only to retrieve his brother.” She looked away.
“I tire of yer half truths. Explain yerself. Now!”
“Kasey might die afore yer brothers bring her to ye.” Tears brimmed her eyes.
He craved to reach out, to comfort her. “What has caused this dire prediction?”
She shook her head. “Ye asked me to have faith in ye. I now ask yer trust.”
Intending to soothe her, he kissed her, but his ardor, ever aroused in Evonne’s presence, took control. Pulling away took all his strength. He raised her chin and waited for her to shake the effects. When she finally raised her passion-clouded eyes to his, he nodded. Somehow he would convince Connor.
Their approach had gone unnoticed by none. The din must have alerted Connor, who awaited their arrival on the stone steps.
Evonne’s adoring smile irked Gavin. He pinched her bottom.
She grinned at him, then turned doe eyes back to Connor.
He pinched her again. “I care not for the way ye eye my brother.”
She sighed. “He be perfect.”
“For whom?”
“Since I have last seen him, his chest has broadened. And look at the way the seams of his sleeves strain to contain his arms.”
“Need I remind ye? Ye married me.”
“Och, dinna be a fool!” She smacked his shoulder. “I be thinking only of Kasey. If anyone can remove her from Cameron clutches, he can.”
Gavin slid Evonne onto the saddle, dismounted, and then gathered her into his arms. He approached the steps and bowed to Connor. “Kindly step away. I wish to deposit my wife by the hearth.”
Connor turned and opened the door, then pulled it closed. “Yer wife? Ye have much to tell me, brother.”
“The door if ye please?”
Connor pushed it open, and Gavin slid in before he could close it again. He placed Evonne in a cushioned chair, propped her legs on a stool, and covered them with his cloak.
As recognition dawned, Connor frowned. “I see fate has reunited ye with yer woman. Might yer return mean my opportunity lies at hand?”
“I truly hope so, brother.”
Connor sighed. “Forgive me, Gavin. Yer joy be my joy. She be willing to pledge her fealty to me now?”
“Ye have retaken the title?”
Connor nodded. “Father insisted. He feels the status will bode favorably on the quest’s outcome.”
Evonne cleared her throat. “Laird Mackintosh. If ye will forgive me for not kneeling, I shall pledge my oath.”
“Be ye too good to show proper respect?”
“Milord, there be much ye dinna ken.” Gavin told him all that occurred since he and Dillon had left Inverness.
Connor’s gaze softened. “I assume ye will have no misgivings about curtsying once yer legs heal.”
“Aye, Laird Mackintosh. I mean nay. Och,” Evonne inhaled. “I be honored to pledge my loyalty to ye now.”
Gavin stood by her side while she gave a most heartfelt oath.
Connor nodded and turned to his brother. “Take yer wife abovestairs. We leave immediately.”
****
In order to keep a semblance of sanity, Kasey imagined she searched the forest for plump berries as she scrubbed the floors. She prepared a grand feast for her king instead of her laird’s simple fare. She danced at a grand ball in a stunning kirtle rather than dusting the keep in her rags.
Before that fateful summer at Inverness, she had led a pampered life. Though her laird had often lectured her about earning her keep, he had never treated her as a servant. She much preferred his occasional slap to the punishment he and Randall now bestowed.
Alas, she relied upon the memory of the waterfall most often. She recalled the resilience of the rushes at the cascade’s base when she needed strength and endurance. The multitude of animals and plants that increased each year gave her hope in life’s ability to replenish. The serenity brought forth by the splendid panorama gave her peace.
The falls also reminded her of her old self. How often had she been told her smile could dry rain before it hit the ground? Now it made fewer appearances than the sun in this dreary climate. Dread for drudgery replaced her ardor for arising each morn. Fear tempered every move.
She refused to succumb to the despair that battled to enshroud her. They might beat her, but they would never defeat her. Every dog had its day. Nay. Every heart had its day and someday, somehow hers would also.
But first she needed to heal. Her wounds required tending, but cures she once recalled instantly now deserted her. She thanked Broderick’s memory for tea
ching her how to encode her notes. If only she could remember the key.
Her spirit’s need to mend concerned her more. She, alone, could not heal her mind and heart.
In her last encounter with Hunter, he claimed he would return for her, that she belonged by his side. Nigh on three years had passed since his declarations without word or attempt to see his promise true.
He could have done naught to reunite them before he had completed his service to the king’s guard. But that ended at the same time as Randall’s. Each passing day hope faded.
She must have been dim-witted to believe he would rescue her. No longer a trusting fool, she would never again truly care for another. All those she had treasured had met ghastly ends, abandoned her, or turned on her. Love brought naught but pain.
As she dumped a pail of dirty water outside the kitchen door, her vision darkened. Her heart pounded, her breath quickened. The light at the end of the cave had grown enough to see the moisture on the walls. Crimson dripped from the ceiling. Red rivulets pooled at her booted feet. Fear coursed down her spine as she ran toward a forest. Light glinted off the dagger she flung toward a trunk. The hair on her arms stood on end as she leapt over fallen logs. A branch reached out and entangled her. She reached down, grabbed her other dagger, and cut its hold. Sap spattered her face, her kirtle. She ran into a rank-smelling bush and struggled against the nettles that clamped her arms.
“The laird has summoned ye. However, if ye be eager to be close to me, mayhap I could persuade him to give us a few hours alone.”
The vision faded, replaced by a breathing nightmare. “I would rather die.”
“So be it!” Randall dragged her toward the great hall.
She offered no resistance although she could not bear another beating. Along the way she searched her mind, but could find no reason for the laird to seek her presence. She had not used her healing skills since she aided the lad who shot the arrow over the keep’s wall. She had not looked anyone in the eye. She had not lapsed in her chores. Perhaps her laird had added breathing to his list.
Her laird alone waited in the great hall. No witnesses to heighten her humiliation or heed the warning. She wrenched her arm from Randall’s grasp. Careful to keep her gaze to the floor, she curtsied. “Milord.”
