The Highlander's Forbidden Bride (11 page)

B
ethane’s words haunted Ronan for the next couple of days. And was one of the reasons he didn’t mind remaining at the village Black for a while. It gave him more time to do as Bethane suggested and open his eyes, though his heart was a different matter. However, he did wish to see Carissa as clearly as possible.

Another reason they would not take their leave was that he wanted Carissa fully healed and feeling strong once again before they embarked on the journey to his home.

In the meantime, with Carissa improving, there was no reason for her to remain in the healing cottage, and Bethane suggested she occupy her granddaughter Zia’s cottage for the duration. And Ronan could make use of the small nook with a single bed that was part of the sleeping quarters but separated by a curtain.

Neither objected, and he wondered if she felt as he did. He could find any number of reasons to remain near her, but the simple truth was he did not want to be separated from her just yet.

Everything had changed, and he had to define that change if he was ever going to find peace when it came to Hope.

He walked toward the cottage, snow crunching beneath his boots, an icy wind stinging his face and his arms wrapped around a covered basket. He struggled to open the door when he reached it and finally managed to get it open, though the wind whipped it out of his hand.

He was giving it a forceful shove closed with his shoulder when Carissa stepped forward to help him. He shook his head. “It’s too cold near the door.”

She remained where she was in front of the hearth.

“What do you have in the basket?” she asked.

“All of what you need to make apple buns.” He smiled and yanked the cloth off the top.

Her joyous smile stunned him. She looked as happy as a young lass who had just received the most wonderful gift. However, he was more stunned when she rushed around the table, threw her arms around him, and kissed his cheek.

His arm instinctively circled her waist, and he held her against him for a moment until they realized the awkwardness of the situation. But instead of pulling away, he moved his mouth to hers.

He needed to taste her, fully taste her, and see for himself if there was any remnant of Hope. And she didn’t deny him. She closed her eyes and waited.

He did the same, wanting no distractions just the taste of her. When he pressed his lips to hers
it was as familiar as returning home. The thought startled him, and he abruptly stepped away from her.

She stumbled back and quickly braced her hand against the table, while her other hand grabbed at her stomach.

“Are you all right?” Ronan asked.

“I don’t know,” she answered.

The woman who answered him was far from the brashly confident Carissa. Her voice trembled with an uncertainty that left her vulnerable. There wasn’t a time he could recall when Carissa was ever defenseless. If she had no weapon, her tongue served as a good replacement. Even when he had surprised her at the cottage, she didn’t appear helpless. She had challenged him at every turn. And that’s what made it so difficult to believe that a kindhearted soul could actually reside in Carissa.

It could all be a ruse for her to obtain her freedom.

She seemed to gain control and immediately got busy emptying the basket and preparing to bake. Like him, he assumed she didn’t want to discuss the kiss that had tasted all too familiar.

“The apple buns are my favorite,” he said, sitting at the table, hoping to dig through the lies to discover the truth.

“Mine too.”

He suddenly realized that her smile was different. It was bright as if she was truly happy, rather than her usual wicked grin. Or was it because he was seeing her with open eyes?

He watched her hands move skillfully and expertly, and it made him wonder how she had learned to cook so well. It was only one of many questions he intended to ask of her.

“How did you acquire your cooking skills?”

She hesitated to answer.

“I would truly like to know,” he said with a smile, reaching across the table to grab a piece of dried apple.

She stared at him for a moment, and he felt his heart catch; he couldn’t believe that he saw deep sorrow in her eyes. He didn’t believe Carissa would ever feel the slightest sorrow. She had no heart, but Hope did.

He attempted to encourage an answer out of her. “I’m grateful to whoever taught you, for I’ve enjoyed every meal you have cooked.”

Her smile brightened along with her eyes. “Ula taught me.”

“Is Ula your mother?”

“No, my mother died when I was young. Ula was a slave.”

“
Was
a slave?”

Carissa nodded. “She escaped.”

“How?” he asked, curious, since Mordrac’s stronghold wasn’t a place from which to escape easily.

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Was Ula an old woman?”

“She spoke of her grandchildren to me. She loved them dearly and missed them terribly.”

“It’s amazing that an old woman could do
what few if any have done. Escape your father’s stronghold.”

“Your brother did it,” she reminded.

“And I’ve often wondered how.”

“He is a resourceful and determined man.”

“Was Ula the same?” he asked.

She stopped what she was doing and stared at him. “I think what made it easy for both Ula and Cavan to escape was love.”

“Love?” he repeated, not certain he heard her right.

“Yes, love,” she confirmed. “Ula’s and Cavan’s love for their families gave them the courage they needed to escape. It was the driving force that encouraged them never to give up.”

And it was what propelled him to find Hope.

“I suppose love is more powerful than most imagine,” he said. “Love endures where nothing else can.”

“My father would have disagreed. He believed hate endured, and love never lasted.”

“Then he never knew love.”

“I often wondered the same myself,” she said. “He hated so much that he never allowed room in his heart for anything else.”

Not even the love of a young daughter.

The thought shocked but also tormented him. How could a bonny lass be raised on hatred rather than love?

She placed the buns in the hearth to bake and turned to Ronan with a smile. “I think I should make us a flavorful stew for supper.”

“I’d like that,” he said, and stood. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll get it from Bethane.”

“We should ask Bethane to join us,” Carissa suggested. “She has been good to us.”

While Ronan would have preferred to be alone with Carissa, he knew she was right. Bethane had been very good to them. She had given them time together, to discover and learn more than he ever imagined.

“I’ll invite her,” he said.

“Good,” she said with an excited clasp of her hands. “I will bake fresh bread to go with the stew.”

He walked over to her and took her hand. “Tell me what you need.”

She stared at him for a moment, and he could see that she struggled to reply. And he knew that she wasn’t thinking of her need in terms of baking, and neither was he.

The kiss was unexpected though desired by both. This time it lingered, as if sampling and finally realizing the taste was exactly what both favored, they drank deeply.

Their lips were the only part of them that touched as though if they went any further, neither of them could prevent what would happen.

It was a kiss that stirred their souls, and when it ended, their brows rested against each other’s and both took deep breaths, though neither spoke.

When they finally broke apart, Ronan asked, “What do you need?”

Carissa answered before she thought, “You.”

Carissa, her legs unsteady, plopped down on the chair at the table after the door closed behind Ronan. He hadn’t replied to her response. He had simply walked out the door.

Something had changed between them, or had it changed in her? Had the fever robbed Carissa of her last bit of strength or had it helped Hope emerge? She didn’t know, although she knew that she didn’t want to live as Carissa any longer.

It wasn’t who she was, and she didn’t want to pretend anymore. She was so very tired of being who she wasn’t. And with a taste of what she could have, it made her all the more eager to want it.

Fool. It can never be.

Not true, she could hope. Hadn’t he kissed her? And there was no denying that they both enjoyed it. But then they had always enjoyed it, from the very first. Her skin continued to tingle from their recent kiss, just as it always had.

She still wondered how it was that they had so easily and quickly fallen in love and how it had seemed to endure even through separation and supposed death. Ronan hadn’t stopped loving Hope even though he had believed her dead. It seemed that he loved her even more.

And she hadn’t stopped loving him. She had no idea where their love had been born, but somehow it had been given life, and she so badly wanted to see it continue to live and grow strong.

She got a sudden chill, and she realized that the tingle from Ronan’s kiss had dissipated, and she
missed it. She missed him, and she wondered how she would ever live life without him.

Hope.

There truly was none for her, but there was Hope herself. If she could find the courage to let Hope live. But then, for that to happen, Carissa had to die. They both could not survive together. Only one could stay, the other had to go. And though she might be tired of Carissa, it was due to her strength and courage that she had survived. How then did she deny her?

She remained by the fire until Ronan returned, then she got busy preparing the stew while he once again joined her at the table.

“Bethane will be happy to join us,” he said with a grin. “I boasted about your cooking.”

“I’m not that good a cook.”

“No, you are a
great
cook. I’ve never tasted such flavorful food.”

Never had anyone ever boasted about anything Carissa had done, and that he took such pride in her skill touched her heart. But hadn’t Ula told her that preparing a good meal could bring peace to the heart?

And right now, at this very moment, she felt at peace. Although she knew this was a rare moment, and more than likely she would never experience something like this again, she would enjoy it and cherish it and keep it strong in her memory.

“Tell me of your brothers,” she said.

While she cut the potatoes, Ronan regaled her with stories of when he was young, and they both
laughed at the antics of his youth. And the pleasant day continued when Bethane joined them hours later.

It turned into a pleasant evening among friends, and Carissa was grateful for it. She had always known that life was far different than she had lived it, though her father tried to convince her otherwise.

Bethane left sooner than Carissa would have liked, but the older woman insisted that Carissa still needed to rest. Though the fever was gone, she needed to regain her full strength.

Ronan agreed, and once Bethane was out the door, he ordered her to bed.

She was about to disagree when a yawn advised the same. Reluctantly, she retired to her sleeping quarters, Ronan promising to be close behind after he added more logs to the hearth and grabbed a couple to add to the small hearth in the other room.

She changed into her wool nightshift, grateful Ronan had brought her clothes with them, and climbed into bed, snuggling under the warm covers. She wished Ronan would join her. She missed him in her bed. There were times when they had shared a bed that she would wake and be in his arms. She would lie still and enjoy his warm embrace. She had gotten used to his being there and disliked the empty place beside her.

Ronan entered, and she watched him add dry logs that the flames quickly sparked to life. He stood and slipped off his shirt as he walked toward
the bed. Could he be thinking of joining her? How she hoped he would. She would love to rest her head on his chest and sleep in his arms.

“You’re all set?’ he asked.

“I’m fine,” she lied. And wished she could tell him she wanted him to sleep with her, but if she did, he would think her to be Carissa and wanting sex, when she simply wanted him beside her.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought of making love with him, even if only for one night, but at the moment it was him beside her that she wanted the most.

“If you need me—”

“I’ll be fine,” she said.

He nodded and turned away without another word, disappearing behind the curtain to the small sleeping nook.

Ronan woke out of a sound sleep and shot up in bed. Had he heard something? He listened, but only silence greeted him. He dropped back on the bed. He turned on his side and punched the pillow a few times while trying to find a comfortable position.

Damn if he didn’t miss sleeping with Carissa.

He had gotten used to her body next to his, the familiar scent of apples drifting off her, the way she would snuggle next to him almost as if she couldn’t get close enough. But he hadn’t realized that until now…until he began to see Carissa differently.

He sprang up again.

This time he was sure he heard something. He
got out of bed, disregarded his nakedness, pushed the curtain aside, and walked over to her bed. She tossed in her sleep, a groan escaping now and then. She was obviously in the throes of a bad dream.

He didn’t hesitate as he climbed in bed beside her and wrapped her in the safety of his arms.

She settled almost instantly against him, snuggling until she found a comfortable spot. Nosing her slim leg between his two warm ones, she fell into a peaceful sleep.

R
onan grew thick and hard in the hand that stroked him. Damn, but it felt good, and it felt even better when her hand drifted down to cup him gently and squeeze lightly until he shivered.

“One night, just one night love me.”

When he realized it wasn’t a dream, he surrendered to his passion and captured her whispering plea with his lips. His hands tugged her nightshift up to explore her warm flesh, and it wasn’t long before his lips followed where his hands had touched.

She tasted sweet, soft and silky and he couldn’t get enough of her. He grew drunk with the taste of her, and he wanted more, so much more from her. He slipped her nightshift up and over her head, tossing it aside as his lips claimed hers once again.

She feasted on him as hungrily as he did on her. It was as if they were starved, and only the other could appease the gnawing hunger.

Her hands explored him with as much enthu
siasm as his hands did her. There was no hesitation or shyness in her touch, she explored like a woman who knew what she wanted and would give as much as she got.

They rolled around on the bed like old lovers recently united, teasing and tasting until both could stand it no more, though it was Ronan who took control.

He slipped his arm around her waist and swung her beneath him, planting himself on top of her. He grabbed hold of her hands and stretched them past her head as he kissed her.

“Damn, but I love you, Hope.”

“Now, right now, love me,” she said against his mouth, and stole another fiery kiss.

He obliged. Not being able to wait any longer himself, he drove into her with a hungry need and she squeezed his hands hard as she gave a shout. He stopped abruptly.

“No, no, don’t stop,” she urged, lifting her hips.

She drove him deeper inside her and enflamed him even more.

He released her hands, and he braced himself over her and set a rhythm that had her moaning with pleasure and him near to exploding. But he waited, and it didn’t take long before she screamed out his name; and then and only then did he join her.

They slept soon after, though they woke and made love again, Carissa once again initiating it and he obliging, until finally they fell into a sound sleep.

Carissa woke thinking she heard her name being called, but assumed it a dream when she listened and heard nothing. She smiled, turning in Ronan’s arms to look at him.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and kissed his lips gently.

He didn’t stir, and she laughed softly. She had tired him out, but she would let him rest and not disturb him, for a couple of hours at least.

“Carissa.”

She stilled, her body turning completely rigid. Someone had called her. It wasn’t a dream. She carefully slipped out of bed, not wanting to disturb Ronan, dressed quickly, hurried into the next room, and came to an abrupt halt.

“Septimus,” she said, and hurried over to him. “What are you doing here? Ronan is in the other room. You took—”

“It’s Dykar.”

She grabbed hold of his arm and kept her tone low. “What happened?”

“A ragtag group of mercenaries captured him and demands to meet with the leader of our group.”

“Did you send for Hagen?” she asked.

Septimus shook his head, his expression troubled.

Carissa knew before he said a word. She was expecting this, though hoping otherwise. Her secret had lasted longer than she expected. How did she think she could simply walk away from it?

“They know our leader is a woman.”

She nodded. “And they demand to speak to me.”

“Or they threaten to kill Dykar,” Septimus finished.

“Do you have any idea what they want of me?”

“No, but time is short. We must leave now if we are to reach the appointed rendezvous.”

She nodded, knowing she had no choice. “Are the men ready?”

“They wait impatiently for your command.”

“Then let’s go.”

“Are you sure?”

“How can you ask me that?” she said as she yanked her cloak off the peg.

“You have a chance at freedom.”

“Not at the cost of Dykar’s life,” she said, and shoved him out the door before her. “And you knew that.”

“It’s just good to hear it.”

“Now that you have, it’s time to go,” she said. “But first I need to speak with Bethane.” Before she shut the door, she whispered softly, hoping somehow it would reach Ronan, and he would know. “I will return.”

Ronan woke with a leisurely stretch and a grin. Damn, he felt good, and he’d feel even better when he made love to Hope again. He turned to do just that and bolted up in bed when he saw that she wasn’t there.

He was about to call out for Hope, but stopped himself and shouted, “Carissa.”

He shouted twice more as he quickly slipped into his clothes.

When he discovered the other room empty, concern struck his gut, and he grabbed his cloak as he headed out the door.

The day was overcast and cold, though it didn’t look or feel like snow. At least he hoped not. He was suddenly eager to return to the security of his home. With hurried steps, he made his way to Bethane’s cottage, and after a hasty knock, he entered.

“Just in time to eat,” Bethane said, pointing at the table set with two bowls and tankards.

“Where is she?” he asked, closing the door behind him though not removing his cloak.

“She’ll be back. She gave her word. Now sit and eat,” Bethane said, and ladled porridge into the bowls.

“How do I trust the word of a barbarian?”

“That’s a question only you can answer.”

The scent of the food had him accepting her offer. He tossed his cloak over the back of a chair and scooped up a spoonful of porridge. Though it was good, it wasn’t as tasty as Carissa’s.

“I agree,” Bethane said. “Carissa’s porridge is much tastier.”

He gave up trying to figure out how Bethane knew what people were thinking. Besides, it didn’t matter. He wanted to know about Carissa.

“How soon will she return and where did she go?”

“I don’t know where she went,” Bethane admit
ted. “But she did tell me that you should return home, and she would come there when she can.”

“What do you mean when
she can
?” he demanded angrily. “Damn, she tricked me again.”

“Do you truly believe that?”

“What else am I to believe? We make love for the first time, and she disappears the next morning.” He cringed. “I should not have told you that.”

“Knowing that, I would surmise only something terribly important would have forced her to leave you.”

“Or Carissa played me for a fool yet again,” he said, pushing the bowl aside. “Getting what she wanted from me and escaping.”

“What did she get that she wanted from you?” Bethane asked.

He couldn’t say aloud what he thought. He couldn’t admit to Bethane that Carissa wanted him to make love to her as he would have to Hope. But he did know what it had cost him. What she had taken from him.

He stood. “My pride. She took my pride, and I am going to take it back.”

Bethane tried to speak, but he silenced her with a wave of his hand.

“No more advice. I opened my eyes as you suggested, but evidently not enough.” He grabbed his cloak and swung it over his shoulders. “I leave for home now.”

Bethane shook her head sadly. “You may have opened your eyes, but you failed to open your heart.”

Ronan tried to make sense of Carissa’s departure during the four days that it took him to get home. He wanted to believe what Bethane had told him, that Carissa would return. But why had she left in the first place? Why had she kept her departure from him?

Thinking on it, he probably would have objected to anything that would have delayed their return home. And it wasn’t only because he finally felt ready to return home but because he wanted this matter concerning Carissa settled. Crazy as the thought was, and that he was even giving it consideration proved madness, but he wanted to spend time with Carissa to see if what he had begun to believe was true, that the woman he loved still lived within Carissa.

There was also another problem that tormented him. He would be returning home without Carissa, and Cavan had trusted him with the task of bringing her to justice. And that meant returning her to him for judgment.

Bethane had said that Carissa had given her word. But did he trust the word of a barbarian? Was there more to Carissa than he had first believed?

He had disappointed his brother once already when he had gotten them captured. It seemed unforgivable that he should fail him once again.

His thoughts remained troubled as he arrived home. A light snow dusted his cloak as he brought his horse to a halt on the moors and stared in the distance at the Sinclare village and keep. It had
been what? Two years since he had been home? Two years since the battle that almost cost him and his brother Cavan their lives. Two years that changed him forever.

But he was here, and there was no turning back. And so he rode forward to finally fully reunite with his family.