The Highlander's Secret Vow

by Eliza Knight

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Nae need for your pity, lass. ’Tis I who am sorry about your hands. I may have pains in parts of my body, but my hands,” he held them out before him, “I still have use of them.”

  A sad smile crossed her face, and she glanced down where he’d placed his hands flat on the table. “Aye. You are lucky in so many ways.”

  “We both are. And ye’ll have use of your hands again.” He slid his hands off the table and pressed them to his thighs.

  “But to what extent?” She shrugged again, as if they were speaking only of the use of an old tattered gown.

  “That I dinna know.”

  “A question that will plague me for a while, I suppose.”

  “Likely.” Liam cleared his throat. “I have a few questions of my own, lass, if ye’re up for answering them.”

  Cora nodded, shook her head, and then nodded again. “I swear to you, Liam, I did not know Ughtred before he came.”

  “I believe ye.” And he was fairly certain he did, but what was a little lie now when he needed information? “I wanted to know if ye knew the men who attacked ye thirteen years ago.”

  “Oh.” Cora let out a long breath and sat back in her chair. She shook her head, golden locks falling free from her braid to frame her heart-shaped face. “’It was all so fast and very confusing.”

  “Aye, but think, lass, had ye seen any of them afore then, maybe even just in passing?”

  She closed her eyes, brought her wrapped hands to her temples as though she would rub them, then let them fall back into her lap with a little cry of pain. Liam was out of his chair in an instant, rushing forward to bend at his knees before her. He pressed a hand to the side of her face, brushing his thumb over her cheek.

  “Och, lass, I’m sorry. I’ve pushed ye too hard.”

  She blinked open her eyes, and a tear escaped. Liam rebuked himself silently for being so callous. He brushed away the warm tear and locked his gaze on hers.

  “I swear, I will never let anyone hurt ye again, lass.”

  “I’m not certain I’m deserving of that.” Another tear escaped, and she bit her lip.

  “Why?” He feared hearing what she’d say next, even as he wiped at her tears.

  “Because I’ve failed you.”

  “Ye’ve not failed me, lass.”

  “Yes, I have. I don’t have the answers you seek. You must know, more than anything, I wish to give them to you, if only in payment for you having saved me before and once again.”

  Liam cupped both of her cheeks now, drawing himself closer. With every word she uttered, his chest tightened, and the need to protect grew stronger. If the men who’d done this to her were in this room right now, Ughtred included, he would have taken his sword to them, mission be damned.

  “Lass, ye need not thank me for having saved your life. Know that, believe it. I did so before out of honor. I did so now because ye’re my wife, whether or not we’ve been apart all these years. I made ye a vow, and I would not have failed to honor it—even if it meant my own death and your treachery.”

  Another tear escaped, and Liam couldn’t resist this time. He leaned in to press a kiss to that hot wee ball of water. The salty taste lingered on his tongue.

  “Dinna cry, lass. Please, dinna cry.”

  But his pleading only seemed to make her cry more, and so he kissed away more of her tears, until his lips had somehow traveled lower and were brushing hers. The only thing that seemed to make sense right now was kissing her. If he had the power to take away all her pain, all her fear, and make her life one of wonder and bliss, he would.

  God, he’d waited so long for this moment. So long to feel her in his arms and have his lips pressed to hers. The feel of his knees pressing into the wooden planks of the floor, the scent of tallow, the rumble of hunger reminding him he’d not yet eaten, were all ignored as he was consumed by the softness of her lips. Her floral scent, the taste of the sweet tisane she’d sipped, the warmth of her body so close to his, made his heart pound.

  Cora sighed against him, tentatively wrapping her arms around his neck as she scooted closer. He kept his kiss gentle yet firm, nothing too intense or invasive, just the brushing of his lips over hers, the heated friction of her lower lip between his own, the very tender, subtle flavor of her upper lip on his tongue.

  Having tasted her now, how was he ever to go without again?

  Chapter 11

  Was it possible that Liam’s kiss had taken away the pain in her hands?

  As absurd as that sounded, Cora thought it could be true. The moment his lips skimmed along her cheek, her breath halted. Even her heart felt as though it had stopped beating—and then it pounded, drowning out every other sound in the room. It was as though she were floating out of her body. New sensations rippled along her limbs, and she wanted nothing more than to cling to him and never let go.

  They’d kissed when they’d wed. A brief, chaste kiss. The memory of which had kept her swooning for a thousand nights or more.

  But this was not that. This was something more. Passionate and dangerous. So many mixed emotions from them both. It felt as though their lips pressed to one another might fix all the problems in the world. Even if that was a mad notion.

  How could a kiss be so powerful?

  How could a kiss have the ability to alter whatever course she’d seen herself taking?

  Cora had lain awake that night after Liam left her chamber, the rush of what had happened overpowering the herbs in her nightly whisky. And yet she wasn’t kept awake by pain, but by something with even more sway—hope.

  But hope for what? A life with Liam? A true marriage? Could she even dare to dream that love was possible between them?

  He was a blustery man. And it was obvious only a small shred of willpower held him together when trying to deal with her mother.

  He was a warrior, one who’d taken charge when he came to her aid, and one she felt safe with when they were out upon the dangerous road. And yet, despite the bluster, the power, the raging fury that lived right beneath the surface, he had dropped to his knees before her and pressed his mouth to her tears.

  There was a big heart inside his muscular chest. One that shouted love was possible. And it was like a secret she’d discovered that no one else knew about. This big, braw Highlander feared in battle and by his enemies, respected by those who followed him, even respected by his king, was a lover underneath it all.

  Now, here she stood in front of the small traveler’s inn, her gaze focused on a pair of grouse birds chasing each other in the pines nearby, daydreaming like she had for the past thirteen years about something so fanciful—his kiss. A kiss that despite its beauty, had also ended with him backing out of the room faster than one might if they discovered the occupants were consumed by plague.

  Of course, that had ruined the moment. But couldn’t erase all that had taken place before.

  In any case, that was what she needed to remember—the reality. That in reality, he was a hardened warrior. That in reality, he had a lot more things to worry about than an injured Englishwoman he barely knew.

  And still, that stupid hope clung to her like a fungus.

  “My lady.” Her husband appeared before her. Nay, she couldn’t be thinking of him as her husband, instead it would be better if she referred to him as Sir Liam, because the truth was, he could still set her aside if he wanted to.

  One kiss meant nothing.

  And yet, it had meant so much—to her.

  “Good morning,” she murmured, ducking her gaze toward the tips of his boots and then shaking her head and raising her eyes to meet his. She couldn’t cower. She wasn’t the cowering type, and she wasn’t about to start that now.

  “We’ll be in Stirling by nightfall,” he said.

  She nodded and wrapped her arm around his proffered one.

  “Did ye sleep well?”

  All this small talk. It was almost as if he were…nervous.

  “Yes,” she lied
.

  He grunted. “Ye’ve dark circles under your eyes that say otherwise.”

  Cora pursed her lips. The man was observant. Annoyingly so.

  He lifted her up onto the horse and climbed up behind her, only this time, she didn’t feel the least bit like sleeping with his body so close. Every swell and curve of sinew molded against her back—branding her. He was hard everywhere. Hard thighs wrapped around her hips. Hard abdomen and chest. Hard arm around her middle, making her breasts feel heavy as they skimmed the top of his arm. Oh, dear. Cora sat up straighter, but doing so only made her back arch a little and push her rear into his…

  Liam grunted.

  What was the lesser of two evils? Her breasts on his arm or her behind against his groin?

  She bit her lip. What was he thinking?

  “Quit squirming,” he said gruffly against her ear.

  Cora stiffened, motionless though every inch of her body was alive with sensation. For several days they’d ridden together without a problem, why of all days did their last one have to be so…difficult?

  She needed to put last night behind her, at least for today. To forget for a moment the tempting man behind her making her body come alive in ways she never knew were possible. To forget the way her body had tingled when he kissed her, much like it was tingling now.

  She glanced toward her mother, who looked wretched in Tad’s arms. Her eyes were swollen as though she’d been crying all night. That seemed to cool some of the heat rushing through Cora’s veins. Oh, how she wanted to reach out and take her mother’s hand, to offer her support.

  Cora might have been injured, but her mother had lost her husband, her home, and she had no idea about the safety of two of her children. Cora would do well to remember her mother’s state of mind, and perhaps judge her less harshly.

  Though her parents’ marriage had never seemed strong, or even seemed as though they really liked each other, that didn’t mean her mother couldn’t mourn. If Liam had been killed, she knew she would have mourned him—even before he’d come back for her. She’d have mourned what could have been.

  She sucked in a choked breath at the thought of him being skewered on the field of battle. That was not a pleasant image at all. Cora squeezed her eyes shut, willing the disturbing vision to go away.

  “What is the matter?” Liam asked as they rode away from the inn.

  Cora’s eyes popped open, and she shook her head so violently, she knocked it against his chin. “Nothing.”

  “Ye’ve been squirming around, stiffening up and gasping since we started. Are ye in pain?”

  In a matter of speaking, if confusion could be termed pain. “I am feeling much better.” There was no way on earth she was going to be able to explain to him how she was truly feeling. Best to pretend and hope he forgot.

  “Ye’re making Robin nervous,” Liam said.

  “Who is Robin?” Cora glanced around, trying to make out which of the warriors she might be having an effect on.

  “My horse.”

  Cora couldn’t help but let out a little laugh. “That is a sweet name.”

  “He’s named after my home—Dunrobin. ’Tis a good strong name for a strong and noble steed.”

  “Yes, it is. I never knew the name of your home.”

  “We dinna know much about each other.”

  That was true. “I am not tired. Perhaps we should talk on this journey, then.”

  “Nay.” The single word was short and curt, with zero emotion behind it.

  Cora tried not to be crushed by how quickly he denied her. “Nay?”

  “I must concentrate. We may be in Scotland, but the roads are not always safe. Outlaws, rebels, Sassenachs. They are everywhere. It is not outside the realm of possibility that we’re being followed.”

  Cora bit her lip. Followed? That clammed her right up. Given that she’d been asleep for most of their journey, she’d not had to worry about vagabonds or attacks on the road before. Now she was definitely not going to find solace in sleep. Her eyes darted everywhere, trying to make out even the tiniest shadow in the distance.

  “Lass, ye’ve got to calm down.”

  “I am calm.”

  “I can feel ye searching—and so can Robin.”

  “Feel me?” She sat up a little straighter, twisting around to see if he was serious. She didn’t think she’d moved at all.

  “Aye. Your breathing, here.” He pressed the flat of his palm to her belly and leaned to speak into her ear, his nose pressed against her temple. With the intimate touch of his hand, her heart skipped a beat. “And your heartbeat. ’Tis fast. Even faster now…”

  That was not from fear, and he seemed to know it as he trailed off. His lips skimmed the shell of her ear, and she sucked in a breath at the same time he pressed his nose to her hair and breathed her in.

  Goodness… How were either of them going to concentrate on anything, when all she wanted to do was turn all the way around in this saddle and kiss him once more?

  Liam seemed to be thinking the same thing. Behind her, she felt his body change… Something hard pressed against her buttocks. Oh…

  He was… She was…

  Cora jerked her head forward, feeling heat flame against her cheeks.

  “Perhaps, ’twould be best for ye to ride with someone else, lass. Ye’re driving me to distraction.”

  “I do not want to ride with anyone else, but neither do I want to put us all in danger.”

  “Go to sleep. That will help.”

  Cora nodded, relieved he wasn’t going to make her leave him. She closed her eyes, leaned back in his arms and tried to ignore the thrum of desire rushing in her veins. It took a while for her to fall asleep, but eventually she did, waking when they stopped along the way.

  Her mother did not speak much to her, casting her furtive looks, and before Cora could figure out a way to approach her, they were back on the road. Because she hadn’t slept well the night before, Cora found it easier to be lulled into a half-awake, half-asleep pattern with the horse’s steady movement, and rhythmic beat of Liam’s heart at her back.

  Just as the sun was starting to make its descent into the orange and pink streaks of the horizon, Stirling Castle came into view.

  They were welcomed across the bridge and into the courtyard. Stable hands rushed forward to take the horses. Liam jumped down and reached up to wrap his hands around Cora’s waist, taking her down off the mount in a move he’d made dozens of times before, but after the long ride, and the way her body had felt afire, it seemed so much more…sensual. As soon as her feet were on the ground, their gazes locked, and his hands lingered a little too long on her waist. She leaned closer at the same time he did, and for a blessed moment, she thought he might kiss her. But then they both jumped back, seemingly both surprised at how little self-control either one of them possessed.

  As they approached the castle, several men rushed forward to greet them, and the inches that separated them soon turned to feet.

  “The king will be pleased ye’ve made it so quickly. He’s just finished up a hunt,” one of the men said as he gripped Liam’s arm, and then slapped him on the back in a gesture of greeting she’d witnessed many times since coming into their company.

  “We’ll settle in, and if ye would, ask him if he’d grant me an audience,” Liam said.

  Settle in. That sounded like a warm and comfortable bed and a delicious meal, and…maybe a goodnight kiss.

  “Aye, Sir Liam. He will be most pleased.” The man’s eyes narrowed with suspicion and then judgment as he seemed to make some sort of silent decision about Cora and her mother. Lady Segrave inched closer to her daughter, brushing against Cora’s hand that hung by her side.

  She winced, biting the tip of her tongue to keep from crying out at the sudden pain. An accident, that was all.

  “Sassenachs?” the man said.

  “Aye.” Liam slid his glance toward Cora, and for the first time since she’d known him, he looked at her with what could on
ly be described as indifference. “Victims of Ughtred.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  Ughtred was carried past them, still spitting curses that would burn the ears of the Devil himself. Victims of Ughtred… Not his wife, his mother-by-marriage. But victims of inconsequence. What did that mean?

  “His wife will be so glad to see him.” The other man let out a bark of laughter.

  “’Haps not after I tell her what he said,” Liam jested.

  They bantered back and forth, and here she stood, relegated from wife to victim. Anger wound in her belly.

  The man shouted an order to several servants. “See that our new guests are given comfortable accommodations.”

  “That willna be necessary for me,” Liam said. “I’ll sleep with my men.”

  Sleep with his men… Once more confirming she was nothing more than collateral damage. What was happening?

  “As ye wish, sir. And for the Sassenachs?”

  The Sassenachs? Relegated from wife, to victim, to simply a Sassenach.

  “Aye. Separate rooms. Lady Cora has her own maid, but Lady Segrave will need to be assigned one.”

  “Lady Segrave?” The man’s brow wrinkled, drawing Cora’s attention.

  Liam stiffened beside her, though not visible to anyone, but Cora felt it in the flex of his arm on hers. The questions inside her grew tenfold.

  Cora’s mother straightened. “Aye. I was married to Baron Segrave, who was murdered by that vile man, Ughtred.”

  “And ye are?” the man asked Cora.

  “I am the daughter of the late baron.” She didn’t explain that she was also Liam’s wife, as he’d not given up that information, although she would have loved to see him squirm had she done so.

  Was that a hint that he did not plan to see their marriage through? Even after the kiss and the way they both openly desired each other?

  Well, she supposed physical desire and kisses did not a marriage match make.

  “Ye are welcome here,” the man said, though behind his stiff smile, there lurked distrust.

  Was it because they were English? She had to assume that was the reason, for she could think of no other cause. So many questions floated in her mind, but before she had the chance to voice them, or even think on them more, a line of servants descended the keep stairs and ushered them inside. Liam did not follow.