Loved By a Warrior (4 page)

“But I have warned you—”

“True, you have, and still I choose to help you,” he said. “So the consequences are of my own making.”

She worried at her lower lip, and Reeve watched it plump further to life. Damn, but he was in need of a woman. That was the problem; he had been too long without one. Who was he kidding? It had been only three days since he had coupled with a very willing widow who had provided him with water when he had stopped at her croft, then suggested he share supper with her until finally she had invited him into her bed. They had had a good time, and when he left, after a delicious morning romp in her bed, they had both been smiling.

Why had he suddenly begun to think of intimacy with Tara? The answer came as fast as the question. When he had held her against him and she had fit so perfectly. With such a precise fit, he couldn't help but wonder if they were perfectly sized in other ways.

“A simple helping hand, that's all,” she clarified.

“What else would there be?” he asked innocently.

“I'm not an ignorant woman, Reeve. I felt you grow hard against me this morning. I saw the look of desire in your eyes when we spoke, and I see how you focus on my lips. Wondering how a kiss would taste?”

He saw no reason to deny the truth. “The thought did cross my mind.”

“Thank you for being honest. It is good to know that I was not wrong about you being a moral man. With that said, I am sure I have nothing to worry about. You will touch me only when I am in need of help.”

“Agreed,” he said. “Just remember, I will be there to help you with
all
your needs.”

Chapter 4

T
ara concentrated on keeping a steady pace behind Reeve even though her ankle pained her. She probably gave it a good twist in the fall, and walking on it wasn't helping. If she alerted Reeve to her injury, he would surely stop and refuse to continue until her ankle healed. And there was no telling how long that would take.

She also knew it was not wise to linger with this man. She had been well aware that thoughts of coupling with her had danced in his head. She had seen the desire in his eyes more than once and had felt it when she woke wrapped in his arms.

It had surprised her, but what surprised her more was that she had stirrings of desire herself. A tiny spark had tickled her dormant passion, and she had briefly felt the urge to couple. Not that she had ever coupled with a man before.

She had truly loved Rory, her first love, and had looked forward to becoming his wife. Unfortunately he died on the day they were to wed. An arranged marriage followed six months later, and she had not met Luag until the day of the wedding. She had not been attracted to him; though not a bad-looking man, she simply didn't favor him. She had actually worried over intimacy with him. She needn't have since he died right after speaking his vows.

The memory sent a shiver through her and caused concern, and for a good reason. She was attracted to Reeve. That he was a handsome man was undeniable, but it wasn't entirely his good features that attracted her. What appealed most was that he had called himself her friend. It had been so very long since she had had a friend.

Tears had threatened when he had told her that he was her friend, and she could count on him, but she wouldn't embarrass herself and let them spill. She had fought to keep them at bay. It was at that moment he had stolen a piece of her heart, or she had simply given it to him . . . her friend.

While she would love their friendship to continue, she knew it would be unwise. Her attraction to him and his obvious desire for her could only prove fatal. It was better that he leave her with the clan he felt best suited her situation and she never see him again.

A pang of regret stabbed at her heart, but she ignored it. Disappointment had been her constant companion. And she had grown accustomed to it. It would do no good to dwell when she knew her decision was for the best. She would make a new life for herself, solitary though it might be. At least she would finally be at peace.

It was late morning when they finally stopped and Reeve suggested she have a rest while he hunted for food. She quickly agreed, hoping the respite would help her throbbing ankle. She waited to examine it until he disappeared beyond a thicket of bushes, and she winced while struggling to get her boot off and cringed when she saw how it had swollen considerably.

She didn't remove her wool stocking to have a peek. She immediately slipped her boot back on though with much discomfort; and there it would stay until the swelling went down.

A fire needed to be started to cook whatever game Reeve caught. She didn't hesitate. She got to her feet and ignored the pain that rippled through her ankle. This was not going to be easy, but when had her life ever been easy. Just like so many other times, she had no choice. She would not cause them to linger, placing them in more peril. She hobbled around collecting sticks and fallen branches and went to work on starting a fire.

She was pleased with her efforts, Reeve returning to find a fire and spit ready to use.

“You did well,” he said, taking the already skinned and cleaned rabbit and placing it on the pit stick to cook. “You've saved us time. If we can keep a steady pace, we can reach my friend's before nightfall. Then three more days, and we'll reach our destination.”

That brought a smile to her face. Pain or no pain, she had to keep pace with Reeve. She could rest when they reached the croft; and hopefully the swelling would be down by morning and the pain diminished.

Excited at the thought of finally starting anew, she asked, “Can you tell me about the clan where I will make my new home?”

“It would be a good idea for us to discuss that now.”

“You are sure they will accept me?” Tara asked apprehensively.

“I haven't a doubt,” he said.

“You know them well then?”

“Very much so,” he said with a nod.

“They are friends of your clan?”

Reeve grinned. “Actually, you'll be making your home with
my
clan.”

Shock and a spark of anger had Tara jumping to her feet. A stabbing-hot pain shot through her ankle, and her response was instinctive. She let out a yell and then sunk, like a stone thrown into a river, to the ground.

Reeve was at her side in an instant. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said stubbornly through gritted teeth.

“You're in pain,” he said. “You were hurt in the fall, weren't you?”

“It's nothing.”

“You're lying.”

“How dare you—”

“Show me the injury,” he demanded.

“No,” Tara said, folding her arms tightly across her chest.

Reeve leaned his face so close to hers that their noses touched. “Tell me, or I will find it myself.”

“You wouldn't dare,” she challenged.

“Do you truly believe that?”

Tara glared at him.

“Show me, or I will begin to touch you, starting from the top and working my way down.”

If he had intended to work from the bottom up, she would not have considered capitulating. And if that didn't annoy her enough, then her traitorous body certainly did, tingling at the mere thought of his exploring touch.

His hands reached out, and she quickly grabbed hold of them. “My ankle.”

She released his hands and raised the hem of her dress, knowing he would do so if she didn't. It was easy to see which ankle was injured, and he gently took hold of her leg. He shook his head, saying nothing. He then attempted to ease the boot past the swelling, and she winced.

It had swollen even more, and now the leather refused to release the injured foot.

“Why didn't you tell me?” he asked, annoyed.

“It would have slowed us down.”

“Are you in such a hurry to reach your new home?”

“I had been until you told me that it was your clan you were taking me to,” she said, knowing it would not do.

“My clan is comprised of good people. You will be welcome there, though . . .”

“You have doubts,” she said at his pause, and shook her head at the obvious mess she had gotten herself into.

“I do not, though I think it wise we don't mention that you are a—” He pursed his lips tightly, as if he didn't want to continue.

“Say it,” Tara insisted. “I am a death bride.
Death Bride. Death Bride
. I kill husbands. I kill people who love me.”

“I don't believe that,” Reeve said. “That is one reason I prefer not to tell anyone of your past. It is time for this so-called curse to be broken. With no gossip to follow you, no one will fear you, and the curse will be no more.”

“You're willing to take that chance? You know so much about curses?”

“Curses only have the power you give them,” he said.

“I've learned otherwise and will not take a chance in causing more harm.”

Reeve reached out and took hold of her chin. “Listen and listen well. You requested that I take you somewhere safe. My clan is a safe place. You will be well protected there, and if you wish to keep to yourself, to make no friends, then so be it. But it is where you are going and where you will stay.”

It did no good to protest. He was giving her what she asked for. What she hadn't counted on was being attracted to him, though what did that matter. Nothing could come of it. She couldn't allow it to. Or was it that she wondered if anyone could ever love her again? It had been so long, and men were so fearful of her that love simply avoided her. But as Reeve had said, she could keep to herself and not bother with anyone.

It wasn't as if she was in love with him. He was no more than a friend. The problem, no doubt, was that she had been too long without the touch and company of a man, and like a starving person, she now craved it. However, it was an appetite she would have to ignore for his safety and for her sanity. As far as not letting anyone know of her being a death bride? She would bide her time and see if it could truly work to her advantage. She had her doubts, and oddly enough, though she could not say why, for the first time in a long time she had an inkling of hope.

She finally agreed. “All right.”

“Believe me, it is a good place for you.”

“Since you are an honorable man, I will take your word on that,” she said.

“Good, for it is given in friendship.”

Friendship.

There was the inkling of hope rearing its head. It would be wonderful to have friends again, to be able to talk with other women and perhaps love would stop avoiding her and somehow, some way the curse could be lifted. She truly hoped that such a miracle was possible.

“Now for your ankle,” he said.

“I don't think we should remove the boot. Once off, I doubt I will be able to get it back on.”

“You cannot walk on it,” he said as if he declared an edict.

“I must,” she insisted. “At least until we reach your friend's croft. There I can rest.”

He rubbed his chin, and once again she noticed his handsome features. She liked the way his dark eyes seemed to match his dark hair and the lines of his slim nose blended so perfectly with his facial features that one would believe his face sculpted by talented hands. But most of all she liked that he cared about her. She could see worry in his eyes, and it was so very nice to have someone truly care.

“We could slow our pace,” he said.

“Then we would not reach the croft before nightfall.”

“The walk will be too much for you,” he insisted.

“Let me be the judge of that.”

He grinned. “With how stubborn you are?”

“My stubbornness just might serve a purpose this time.”

“The purpose of making your ankle worse and causing you more pain?”

“I can manage this,” she said. “And once at the croft, I can rest.”

He shook his head, as if in disagreement with himself. “You will tell me if the pain becomes too much?”

“Yes, I promise.”

“If we must stay with my friend a few days, you will not protest?”

Since they would not be alone, she had no worry. “I will not protest.”

“Then we will try and make it to the croft.”

“You don't believe I can,” she said, seeing the doubt.

“You can at the cost of pain and more swelling.”

“But it will bring us closer to your home, my new home, and that is where I long to be.”

“I cannot fault you there,” Reeve admitted. “I long to be home myself.”

“You miss your family?”

“Aye, I do,” he admitted, tucking the hem of her cloak around her feet and stretching his legs out where he sat beside her. “Mercy, Duncan's wife, is expecting their first babe in the summer, and the family can't wait for the wee one to be born.”

“How wonderful,” she said, trying to keep the sadness out of her voice. She loved children and had hoped to have many. Rory and she had talked about having a large family. He had joked about starting his own clan, and she had been willing to oblige him. They had been so young and so in love. There seemed to be nothing to stand in their way . . . nothing except death.

“Are any of your other brothers married?” Tara asked, not wanting to focus on sorrowful memories.

“None but Duncan,” he said.

“And none in love?”

Reeve hesitated a moment. “Trey lost the woman he loved, killed by our enemies.”

“How terrible for him,” she said, too familiar with the pain of loss.

“It was,” Reeve agreed. “The family didn't think he would ever heal. I sometimes wonder if he has, or if he has just found a way to cope with it.”

The hiss of the flames drew their attention, and the succulent scent of the roasting rabbit reminded them of how hungry they were. Soon they were enjoying the meal, and soon after that, Reeve was dousing the fire with handfuls of dirt and kicking the last of the charred wood apart.

“Are you sure of this?” he asked.

Tara nodded. Pain or not it had to be done.

They set off, and she didn't know how she kept pace with Reeve, but she managed. Her ankle pained unmercifully until finally it settled into a dull rhythmic throb that, in a strange way, became bearable, or was it that she ignored it as best she could.

Reeve endlessly asked if she was all right, and she endlessly informed him that she was fine. But after a few hours, the throbbing increased, and she began to ask him how long it would be before they reached the croft.

Finally, Reeve stopped abruptly and turned, reaching for her.

She swerved out of his reach. “What are you doing?”

“I intend to carry you.”

“You most certainly will not.”

“There's no time to argue,” he said. “And since you have repeatedly asked how far we have to go, your ankle must be paining you. I hadn't expected you to last this long.”

“I can manage,” she insisted adamantly, expecting him to argue.

He stretched out his hand to her. “Let me help you.”

This time when he stepped forward, she didn't stop him from scooping her up. Even with the weight off it, her ankle continued to throb. But that wasn't what drew her attention. A chorus of chaotic warnings shouted in her head how dangerous it was to be in his arms.

Why then did his embrace feel so utterly wonderful? The brute strength of his arms, the ease with which he carried her, the determination on his handsome face, they all made it seem so right.

Without thinking, she laid her head on his shoulder, tucking the top of her head beneath his chin and snuggling comfortably against him.