Binding Vows (16 page)

Duncan wielded his sword with little effort. He lifted it high above his head and twisted his body in all directions as if facing his enemy from all sides at once. There was none faster and more cunning on the battlefield. If his skill alone didn’t set him apart in a crowd, his clean shaven face would have. He had kept it bare since she had emerged from her room weeks prior. He faced ridicule and jokes from his peers, but he didn’t seem to mind.

She slipped from her perch and moved to get a closer look.

Tara sometimes caught him watching her, felt him trying to peer into her thoughts. Lora had provided valuable information advising her how to block him out of her mind. When Tara sensed Duncan peeking into her head, she purposely thought of a running river or some other body of water.

Sometimes, she pictured an animal playing or running. These thoughts blocked and confused him.

She even went so far as to sing rock songs in her head, which always brought a puzzled look to his face when she was near enough to see his expression.

At times like now, when he was busy training, 132

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he was too involved in what he was doing to notice her presence. Or at least she hoped so. It wouldn’t do any good to ignore him all day, to blow the effect by letting him know she was interested in how he spent his time.

So, she sat in the shadows of the massive Keep, sang a little Green Day, and watched the men sweat.

Life could be worse. ****

Ian watched as his wife sat patiently with her needlework. “Have they even spoken two words since the first day?”

“Oh, one or two, but only when they cannot avoid it.”

“I have to put an end to this nonsense. I hear rumblings from the men. Jacob asked if he could court her.”

“We can tell the man Duncan is pursuing her, it’s up to him to make it believable.” She snipped off her thread and changed the color.

“How can he make it believable if they aren’t even speaking?”

“Tara’s needed this time, husband. Have a bit more faith in your son.”

“I’ve never been as patient as you.”

Lora nodded her head in agreement. “Growing up an only child has kept your patience short.”

It was an age-old story, which bore repeating. “I grow tired, Lora. I want to see our children have families of their own.”

“You make it sound like you’re at death’s door.

We both know nothing could be further from the truth.”

He ran his fingers through graying hair. “Myra is well past the age of eligibility. Why, by the time you were her age Duncan was almost two and Fin was well on his way to this world.”

Lora removed her eyes from her embroidery and 133

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gazed at her husband. Stress and worry etched his face. She put her needlepoint aside and went to him.

“My lord husband, do not take to heart these matters. I’ve seen the goodness ahead for our children. Myra’s husband will come. Forcing her into a marriage was never an option and ye know it. All this needless concern will only remove precious years from them if you allow it to continue.”

“What would I do without you?”

She laid her head in his lap and felt his hands stroking her hair. She wanted his apprehension over things he wasn’t in control over to end. Because of her conviction, she kept from him the feeling she had been carrying with her since Tara had arrived. Lora sensed that after a short amount of happiness, turmoil would return.

Lora couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming.

Something evil.

****

Duncan took a long drink from his cup. “As much as she needs.”

“You’ve both been circling around each other for weeks. Even the men are starting to talk.” He kept his voice low to keep their conversation private.

“Exactly what are they saying?”

Fin wasn’t sure how much he should tell. “They ask if you have actually spoken for her, or if she’s your leman.”

Duncan whipped around catching his brother unaware, his eyes ablaze with anger. “Such gossip could ruin Tara’s reputation. Who would question me?” “Calm down.” Fin spotted a beige skirt peaking from the shadows. “You must know how it looks 134

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from the outside. Neither one of you look to be the happy couple.”

Fin formulated a plan in his mind to bring the couple in question closer. “I’m sure the talk is nothing. Come. Let us work with our swords.”

Frustrated, and having a need to move, Duncan sparred with his brother. He worked out some necessary energy.

They danced around each other, practicing their blocking and agility. Duncan had pushed his brother twice into an un-defendable position. “You hesitate on that move every time. Any foe would see it as your weakness within a few minutes.” Duncan helped his brother to his feet.

They started again.

Short of breath and giving under his brother’s physical demand, Finlay glanced over his shoulder.

“She watches us now.”

Distracted, Duncan shot a look around to see where she was, knowing Fin spoke of Tara.

Fin took his opening and bested his brother.

“Ahh...now I’ve found your weakness.”

Again they circled. Each thrust and block more powerful than the last. “Women hate to see their men hurt or injured. I wonder how yours would act if you took a fall? Of course, it would have to look good.”

“Most likely she’d thank the one who put me down.”

Fin used his shield to block Duncan’s blow.

“Maybe. ’Tis only one way to find out.” He didn’t give his brother the chance to react. He kicked out his feet, tripping Duncan, and came upon him. Normally he would have stopped the sword from going near his skin. This time however, he let the blade connect enough to scratch and startle his brother, enough to bring blood to the surface.

Enough to rip a scream from the shadows of the 135

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Keep.

Tara came at a full run with skirts lifted to her knees. She pushed Fin aside. “Get out of my way, you big jerk.”

Men stood back. Tara dropped to the ground, completely uncaring about the dirt or the scene she made in doing so.

She brushed aside Duncan’s bloody hand clenching his side. “How bad is it?” She pushed away his chain mail to get a good look, but couldn’t manage to see where the bleeding came from.

Frantic, she struggled with his clothing.

Duncan stared at the top of her head. She smelled of roses. Her hands were soft on his skin, her voice purred concern for his well-being. He glanced at his brother and nodded his thanks.

The other men watched as Lady Tara took great care in helping Duncan to his feet. “We need to get you out of this thing.”

Fin offered his help while holding back a smile.

“You’ve done enough already. You should be more careful. Save the actual blows for someone who deserves it.”

“Aye, my lady.” Fin bent in a mocking bow.

Tara noticed the men who gathered and watched. “The show’s over cowboys. Why don’t you all get back to work?”

The men watched her walk away. Daniel, Finlay’s trusted friend, turned and asked, “What is a cowboy?”

Laughing, Fin shook his head, “I don’t know.”

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Duncan leaned on her as they slowly made their way up the stairs and she helped him into his rooms across the hall from hers.

When Megan saw them approach, she jumped to follow them.

“Fetch me hot water and clean cloths,” Tara ordered.

Alone in his room, Tara pulled his chain mail over his head and helped him out of his tunic. Naked to the waist, he sat and watched her inspect his body. Small holes marred his skin.

Blood oozed making it difficult for her to see the damage. Megan soon returned with the supplies Tara requested. When she saw Duncan’s half-naked body, she lowered her gaze and blushed like the virgin she was.

Tara rolled her eyes at the maid’s blush and dismissed her with a flick of the hand.

Duncan shot her a quick grin she hardly noticed before she started to clean him up.

She drenched the cloth, rung it out and dabbed it over his wound. When he winced at her touch, she pulled back, warning him, “This is going to sting.

Try and hold still.”

He watched her clean away the already dried blood. Her touch was tender, even if her words had a bite to them. “Your brother should be more careful.

He could have done some serious damage.”

Tara leaned back and studied her handiwork. A small amount of bruising already formed, but none 137

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of the cuts were deep enough to cause any worry about infection. “The chain thing you wear helped keep this from being worse, even if it contributed to a bit of the damage.”

She glanced at him, his eyes were shut, his fingers clenched. “Does it hurt that bad?” She reached a hand and touched his cheek.

“Nay, lass. Not so much.”

“Still, I think you should take it slow for the rest of the day.” She moved to take the bowl of grimy water away from the bed. “You don’t want any dirt getting in your wound. Maybe your mother has some type of salve to put on the worst of them to keep out bacteria.” She returned to his side, and sat on the edge of the bed.

“What is this thing you call bacteria?”

“Germs?”

He was still puzzled.

“Microscopic organisms that cause infection?”

“Microscopic?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Germs are small bugs that make you sick.”

“What do you know about stopping these germs from making an infection?”

She leaned against the post of his bed and started to explain. “Keeping wounds clean makes a big difference. Staying healthy so your body’s defenses have a chance to heal helps, but the biggest power against infection are antibiotics. You’re going to have to wait until the 1800’s before any of that will be available.”

“We’ll have to stay healthy and avoid cuts,” he said. She laughed at his conclusion. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m still mad at you.”

He forced his smile into submission. “As you wish.”

They stared at each other, silent.

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“I’ve missed you, Tara.”

He sat across from her. His lazy smile melted her resistance. The sight of his rippled chest muscles made certain parts of her body clench. Her desire for him increased, growing with each moment. “I’ve missed you, too.”

His hand, heavy and strong, reached for hers. “I hope you know if I could have done things differently, I would have.”

His touch made her heart beat faster. His words reached out and touched her soul. “I know. Your mother explained everything to me.” She let her thumb stroke his fingers. “It didn’t change the outcome. I needed some time.”

“Have you had enough time?”

Her eyes moved from their joined hands to his sexy mouth. From there, she sought his gaze. “It takes a lot of energy staying pissed-off at you.”

“Am I forgiven?”

“I haven’t heard an apology yet.” She was half joking.

“Is that what you’ve been waiting for? An apology?” He moved closer. She didn’t have any room to back away. Not that she would have.

“It wouldn’t hurt.”

He inched closer.

She moved in.

“I’m sorry to have caused you such grief, Tara.

I’m not sorry for keeping you from Grainna, or for keeping you alive.”

“I should be thanking you I suppose,” she said against his lips.

He used her words. “It wouldn’t hurt.”

“Thank you, Duncan, for saving my life.” She looked down at his smiling lips.

A lifetime could have passed in the moments before her lips met his.

Her mouth opened in silent invitation, which he 139

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accepted greedily. Their kiss was a homecoming.

Much more than a meeting of their lips.

Her hands reached into his hair, hair she had dreamed of running her fingers through daily since they met. Even when she was angry at him she couldn’t get him out of her mind. Every resistant bone in her body melted when he angled his head and deepened their kiss.

Duncan lowered her to his bed. Butterflies with wings the size of dragons filled her belly. Her hands drifted to his back and she pulled him on top of her so his weight pinned her in place. The long length of his body felt delicious against hers.

Tara dug her nails into his flesh. A moan of pleasure escaped him.

When his hand slid up her side, molded to her breast, a sob of pure pleasure burst from her throat.

The door flung open and banged against the stone wall.

They sprung apart.

The sensation of Duncan’s lovely body heat, the sheer weight of him, suddenly disappeared. His absence left a cool breeze drifting across her bare breasts.

Stunned, they gaped at the open doorway where Lora stood inside the frame with wide eyes.

Amusement rapidly replaced her look of worry.

Tara recovered first. She pushed Duncan back, attempting to adjust her clothing. “Ah...”
What’s her
name?
“Mrs. Mac Coin...”

Duncan’s laugh didn’t help.

“Lady...”

Lora took the lead and added to Tara’s stress.

“You can call me, hmmm...” She tapped her chin with a finger. “Let me see... what is the term you use? Mom. Aye, you can call me Mom, if this is what I should expect to discover when entering a room with you two within.”

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Unnerved, Tara scrambled to her feet. She felt like a teenager caught in a compromised position in the backseat of a car by her parents. “Duncan had a... Well he was, ah, hurt.” The word came from Duncan’s thoughts. “Aye hurt. I ah...came here to help him.”
Yes, that’s right.
“He could use any salve you might have to keep his...”

Wound,
Duncan said in his mind.

“Thank you.” She turned to Duncan’s smiling face. “Wound, from getting infected.”

Tara fled Duncan’s room without further word.

Outside, Tara leaned against the closed door trying her best to catch her breath. She heard Lora.