The Daring Twin

by Donna Fletcher

The man walked up behind her and Raynor stepped around his mother to greet his father with a bear hug.

  He was several inches taller than his wife and there was no doubt he was Raynor’s father, they looked so much alike. Traces of gray, heavy at his temples, ran through his darker shoulder-length hair. His dark eyes were framed with a mixture of worry and laugh lines, which added to his fine features. And love and pride shined in his eyes when he looked at his son.

  With their reunion finished, the man took the woman’s hand and they followed Raynor up the steps.

  “Aliss,” Fiona said, and stretched her hand out.

  Aliss joined hands with her sister and they stood together as one.

  Raynor was all smiles as he made the introductions. “May I present our parents, Anya and Oleg. Mother, Father, this is”—he bowed his head—“Aliss and”—he pointed—“Fiona.”

  Tears shimmered in Anya’s eyes, and it took her a moment to speak. “I know I am a stranger to you both and I cannot expect you to think of me as your mother, but in time I hope . . .” Her voice faltered.

  Aliss went to her and took her hand. “It is an awful tragedy to lose a child, but a miracle has been granted us. It would be foolish of us not to be grateful and take joy in what has been returned to us.”

  A single tear dropped from Anya’s eye. “You have the quiet strength of your father, and you are so very beautiful.”

  “Then is it your candor that I possess?” Fiona stepped forward.

  Oleg smiled at his wife. “She truly is your daughter.”

  Fiona knew she must introduce Tarr and chose a simple introduction. “This is Tarr of Hellewyk.”

  Tarr paused a moment before stepping forward.

  Fiona knew he waited to see if she intended to explain that they were to wed, but she could not offer him that courtesy, her decision yet to be made.

  She was not surprised when he clarified his identity.

  “Fiona is to be my wife, and I am pleased to meet her parents.”

  Oleg and Anya looked ready to greet him warmly when Raynor stepped in.

  “There is much for us all to discuss. Let us retreat to the great hall to feast and talk.”

  Aliss walked beside her sister, slowing her step for Fiona to keep pace with her and let the others walk ahead.

  “Be careful you do not regret your actions,” Aliss whispered.

  “Until I come to know these people I cannot treat them as my parents.”

  “You know it is not Anya and Oleg of whom I speak. Tarr stood beside you—”

  “When it was not necessary.”

  “He was there for you,” Aliss snapped.

  Fiona stared at her, surprised by her outburst.

  “He is trying, Fiona—”

  “What is he trying?”

  “To love you, if only you would let him.”

  Aliss stomped ahead, leaving her sister behind, and walked up beside Tarr.

  Aliss never got angry with her. They had had their disagreements, but never had they been angry at each other. The thought upset Fiona and the more she thought, the more upset she got. This was all because of Tarr who had not wanted Aliss around in the first place, and now she defended him?

  She marched forward. This was his entire fault. He was using her own sister against her to make certain he got what he wanted. He would probably use her new-found parents as well.

  Not if she could help it.

  She entered the hall prepared for anything.

  “Please, Raynor, a table in front of the hearth where we may keep warm and converse more easily with everyone,” his mother said, slipping her cloak off for a servant to take.

  The servants got busy moving one of the trestle tables and benches lengthwise in front of the hearth. Soon platters and bowls of food were being placed on the table along with pitchers of wine, ale, and cider.

  Anya sat with her back to the fireplace with her husband on one side and son on the other.

  Aliss took the end of the opposite bench and Fiona scooted in beside her, leaving the other end for Tarr. The space was tight between the two, Tarr sitting closer to her than she would have liked, but there was little she could do about it.

  His thigh rested against hers, solid and strong. She thought to squeeze closer to her sister, but the warmth of him felt good. His heat penetrated her skirt, sinking deep into her flesh, sending a sensation of comfort coursing through her.

  Another thought to add to her already upset thoughts. Here she was annoyed with him yet comforted by him.

  His hand slipped beneath the table. He splayed his hand on her thigh just above her knee and squeezed a few times before his fingers drifted slowly up her thigh, kneading her flesh lightly as he went. He stopped with his thumb dangerously close to being intimate when, in a second, his hand reappeared on the table.

  What did he think he was doing tempting her under her parents’ very noses?

  Or was he reassuring her?

  Fiona was glad conversation got underway. Her body tingled like it always did when he touched her and her thoughts turned lusty.

  Damn him.

  “Your names are not your given ones,” Anya said.

  Fiona was quick to comment. “They suit us fine.”

  “The people who raised you were good to you?” Oleg asked.

  “Our parents were simple farmers with generous hearts and provided us with a loving home,” Fiona said. “We miss them to this day.”

  “We have missed you these many years. Your absence left not only an emptiness in our hearts but in our home,” Anya said, and glanced at her husband, who took her hand. “There has not been a day that has gone by that we have not thought of you both. We worried if you were well, hungry, alone, alive . . .” She barely whispered.

  Fiona felt Anya’s pain. Once when she was very young, Aliss had wandered off and was missing only for a short time, but the fear that had gripped her heart had pained her like none she had ever known. She could only imagine what Anya had suffered when they had been lost to her. A pain beyond description, no doubt.

  Oleg continued in his wife’s stead. “We searched endlessly for you, but to no avail. We did not want to believe you dead, so we prayed and kept hope alive in our hearts.”

  “And our prayers were answered,” Anya said with joy.

  “A toast!” Raynor raised his tankard. “To reuniting with family.”

  Everyone joined in and soon laughter and talk spread easily around the table.

  When the conversation paused, Oleg took the opportunity to say, “Tell me of this marriage that is planned between Fiona and you, Tarr.”

  Fiona smiled at him. “Aye, tell my father about this proposed wedding.”

  Tarr did exactly that, outlining in detail the arrangements made with Leith of the clan MacElders.

  Fiona admired the confidence and courage he showed. He did not falter in his explanation nor offer excuses as to why the arrangement should be honored. He was impressive in his strength and determination, and even had Fiona believing that they would wed.

  Oleg cleared his throat and he and his wife joined hands before he spoke. “Having just found our daughters after all these years, we had hoped to have time to get to know them and share in their lives. A wedding would prohibit that—”

  Oleg paused to glance at his wife.

  Fiona moved in restless annoyance at the thought that this man she did not know would dictate to her. It was Tarr’s firm hand to her thigh that stilled her and calmed her frustration, at least a little.

  “Though I have been absent from my daughters’ lives all these year, through no fault of my own, I feel compelled to attend to my fatherly duties. I would never expect my daughters to marry against their wishes, so therefore if Fiona wishes to wed you, then I give you both my blessings. If she does not wish to wed you, then I will see to it that she gets what she wants.”

  Fiona spoke before Tarr could. “I appreciate your support, but I have taken care of myself and Aliss these many
years and will continue to do so.”

  She shot Aliss a glance, knowing without a doubt she would concur with her.

  Aliss did not disappoint her. “I agree with my sister.”

  “You possess the patience of a saint when dealing with your sister, Aliss,” Tarr said teasingly. “I should have fallen in love with you.”

  “Love?” Fiona asked on a screech. “You claim to love me to get what you want, a wife and a brood mare.”

  “I must love you to put up with your foolishness.”

  “Foolishness?”

  “You heard me,” he said, his face close to hers. “A brood mare may have been what I first wanted in a wife, but no more.”

  “Are you telling me you do not expect me to bear your children?”

  “Nay,” he said. “I always wanted children and I want those children to be ours conceived out of love, not out of duty.”

  “How romantic,” Aliss sighed.

  “Be quiet,” Fiona ordered.

  “Fiona is right,” Anya said. “Tarr should explain further.”

  Oleg shook his head. “The man has explained. He loves her, what more do you want of him?”

  “Why has he suddenly changed his mind?” Anya demanded, looking to Tarr.

  “Aye, why?” Fiona repeated her mother’s query.

  “I have no answer,” he said with a shrug, “except that I love you. When did I fall in love with you? I cannot say. It simply happened—”

  “And shocked you,” Fiona said accusingly.

  “Aye, it shocked me,” Tarr admittedly freely. “I knew nothing of love. I was too busy learning to be a good chieftain, my father demanded it of me. I had no time to consider love, and besides, a marriage would be arranged. It is the way of things.”

  “Not for me.”

  “So I have learned.”

  “So I am a fool for wanting to love the man I wed?”

  “I thought you were,” Tarr said. “I thought I offered you much and that you were not only foolish for not accepting my generous offer but selfish.” Tarr pressed his finger to her lips to keep her silent. “I learned differently as time went on, and the more time we spent together the more time I wished to spend with you. I discovered I admired and respected you, and the ruse you perpetrated. In my eyes you were an adept warrior woman capable of anything, and as I made all these surprising discoveries, along the way I also fell in love with you.”

  She shoved his finger off her lips. “How convenient!”

  “Aye, for us both,” he said, and leaned close enough for their noses to touch. “There is much more that I wish to say to you but not here in front of everyone.”

  “Why?”

  “There are some words meant for your ears alone.”

  “Give him a chance,” Aliss urged from beside her.

  “Aye, I agree,” Oleg said. “Talk with him.”

  Fiona looked to Anya. “Have you no opinion?”

  “I reserve my opinion for a later time.”

  “I agree with my father and Aliss,” Raynor said. “Be fair and talk with Tarr privately.”

  Fiona stood. “I will give you but a few minutes.”

  Tarr stood, grabbed her hand, and pulled her along behind him. “That is all I need.”

  Chapter 25

  They made their way to his bedchamber and Fiona hesitated at the door.

  “It is the most private place and the place most likely we would not be disturbed,” Tarr said.

  Fiona agreed by entering his room. She went to the window, though not for the view of the meadow. Rather, to put distance between them. She would grant him his few minutes, hear what he had to say, but no more. She would not allow him to touch her, and least of all kiss her. The thought itself made her anxious.

  “Speak and be done,” she said more sharply than intended, and faced him with arms crossed over her chest.

  “Is there any point?” he asked calmly, to her surprise. “Your mind seems set. Would what I say make a difference?”

  “I said I would listen.”

  “But would you hear?”

  He stood just inside the closed door not having moved since he entered. She had expected him to approach her, attempt to touch her, but he had not. This calm control of his sometimes infuriated her for it usually meant he would have his way.

  A warrior’s way.

  Did he look prepared to battle?

  The silent question irritated her for it reminded that it was she who was ready to battle, to defend against him. She could convince herself of it easily. There were signs; he stood blocking the door and any escape, his body was rigid, every muscle taut and prepared to attack.

  But then she looked into his eyes and they told her a different story. There was a desperateness in them, a plea of sorts and an ache that—

  Would you hear?

  She felt a catch in her throat. Were her own words caught there? She cleared the lump as she said, “I will hear you.”

  He walked to the center of the room, a few feet from her. “Will you? I know you have a right to doubt I speak the truth, but how will you ever know if you do not shed that heavy shield you keep around your heart?”

  She stiffened in silence.

  He took another step. “Nothing penetrates it, not truth, not passion, not love. How, then, can you truly feel anything? You tell me you wish to know love, and yet how do you expect love to pierce your defenses?”

  She tightened her arms to her chest.

  He approached her slowly. “You took on the burden of protecting you and your sister after your parents’ death. You refused to rely on anyone, trust anyone. How, then, could you think to love?”

  His words were a direct hit to her heart. Where, then, was her shield?

  “We are much alike, you and I, which is why I think we love so passionately. How it happened, when? I do not need to know. I only know that I love you. If you ask me why I love you—”

  He shrugged and smiled. “I would give a different answer each time. At this moment I love you because you stand firm, unafraid to listen, your arms shielding your heart, your green eyes filled with uncertainty, your soft lips tempting me.”

  He shook his head as he stopped a few inches from her. “I love you, Fiona. I know not how else to say it, but simply, and those three words I will say to you everyday of our lives together.”

  He reached out and gently took her wrists, pried her arms away from her chest. “Marry me, Fiona. Marry me because I love you. Marry me because you love me.”

  Her body was rigid from holding herself so stiffly, and she stumbled as he drew her into his arms.

  “I will always be there to catch you if you should fall,” he whispered in her ear. “And I know you will do the same for me, for we love each other.”

  A tear trickled down her cheek as she looked into his eyes and he kissed it away.

  “I cannot promise I will kiss all your tears away, but I will promise that I will never make you cry and I will never let you cry alone.”

  She did not hesitate to kiss him; she needed to kiss him, to know that this was not a dream. His lips were warm and welcoming and so very gentle.

  He eased his lips away to say, “I love you, believe that I love you.”

  A faint brush of his lips over hers had tingles racing through her and she eagerly captured his lips for a more fervent kiss.

  As the kiss heated so did Fiona’s body and she grabbed at his tunic, wanting desperately to rip it off his body and feel his naked flesh.

  She refused to end the kiss, her need for him growing more potent as their bodies pressed tightly to each other.

  Finally Tarr grabbed the back of her wild red hair and yanked her head back, freeing their lips. “Keep this up, Fiona, and it will end in my bed.”

  Her answer was to reach for his lips.

  He gave them to her, grabbed her around the waist, she wrapping her legs around him as he carried her to the bed. They fell down upon it as one, she on top of him and he tugging at
the ties to her blouse.

  Her breast finally fell free and his mouth caught her nipple. She gasped, her head falling forward to rest on his forehead as he teased her nipple unmercifully with his tongue. Her hair fell around them, concealing the intimate act. She straddled him while he feasted at her bosom, sending a rush of power through her, firing her desire beyond reason.

  She shifted her body until it fit against his potent erection and then she rubbed against him until she was wet.

  He grabbed her backside and yanked her skirt up. His fingers squeezed at her bottom then hurried forward to touch her wetness. She yelped at the shot of passion that hit her like a bolt of lightning, and she moaned as his fingers played with her.

  “You’re mine,” he said, his free hand grabbing her around the neck and pulling her mouth to his. “Always mine.”

  His words suddenly hit her like a splash of icy cold water to her face and she tore free of his grasp and flew off him to stand, nearly breathless, at the end of the bed.

  “What is wrong?” His own breath was labored.

  She shook her head and, realizing her breast hung free of her blouse, she slipped it in and with shaking hands tied the strings tightly.

  Tarr sat up and Fiona backed away.

  He remained still. “Tell me what is wrong.”

  She continued to shake her head and fled the room, leaving him sitting on the bed stunned.

  Fiona raced up the flight of stone steps, praying Aliss was in their room by now, but she found Anya sitting in the chair near the hearth instead. Her frantic entrance had Anya jumping up and once she saw the tears in her daughter’s eyes, she held her arms out to her. Fiona did not hesitate, she rushed into them and released her tears on her mother’s shoulder.

  When Fiona’s tears were finally spent, mother and daughter sat on the bed together, Anya’s arm remaining firm around her daughter.

  “The talk did not go well with Tarr?”

  Fiona sniffled. “I am a fool.”

  “We are all fools when it comes to love.”

  “He does not love me.”

  “Why do you think that?” Anya asked.

  Fiona wiped at her red swollen eyes as she spoke. “He attempted to convince me with simple, thoughtful words then while he—”