The Highlander's Lady (12 page)

Only problem was, how could he be sure she’d be there when he returned? He couldn’t truly… Unless he bedded her now. And every chance he got until she left. Hopefully
then he’d have planted his seed
and she couldn’t leave him
if she was with child
.

A sour taste filled his mouth. Daniel wasn’t like that. He didn’t resort to trickery. Shaking his head he walked around to the other side o
f the bed and laid down heavily. The bed creaked and groaned with his weight. Obviously the bed was not made for a warrior. He didn’t
bother to remove his clothing or boots.
He and Myra
were both safer this way.
He crossed his legs at the ankles and put his hands behind his head as he studied the wooden planked ceiling.
How reliable was the roof? The room smelled musty and moldy. He gathered when it rained the room was damp and a few buckets
were
placed around to collect water.

Myra made a sound in her sleep and he turned to stare at her. She was so peaceful, quiet in her sleep. Different than how she was when awake. Almost made him forget what a
high-spirited woman
she was. Almost.

Her skin was smooth and creamy looking, a touch of pink in her cheeks. Dark lashes fanned over her cheeks and beneath her lids her eyes moved back and forth. She was deep in sleep. His chest tightened for a moment. Myra trusted him. Even if she didn’t say so when she was awake, and railed on everything he said, she trusted him all the same. Else she wouldn’t be able to sleep so peacefully beside him.

Daniel
wasn’t a desperate man.

He blew out a breath and turned back to study the ceiling. He was damned well not going to force her. His wife would stay because she wanted to. And he was pretty sure he could make her want to stay.

If
Myra
decided to run away, he would simply track her down and convince her once more the right of things.
The two of them were good for each other.
He wasn’t going to resort to trickery to keep her attached to him. And truth be told, if she wanted so badly to get away from him, then perhaps she wasn’t the right one for him.
He could be wrong. Daniel wasn’t arrogant enough to believe he was always right—even if he was most of the time.

Myra snuggled close to him, her head some
how
managing to fall on his shoulder as she curled up in the crook of his arm.
Her warm
th
spread through him like sunshine and her breath softly fanned over his neck.

Daniel smiled
crookedly
. At least when she was sleeping she wanted to be with him.
That was a start.

“Nay… Byron…” she murmured in her sleep then shivered.
Desperation sounded in h
er
voice
,
bringing to light all that had happened to her.

Myra was strong, no doubt about that. She’d been through one horrendous event after another. He was surprised she’d not collapsed earlier. Daniel shifted his arm around her back.

“Nay! Dinna die…”

Her words tugged at his heart and he wanted nothing more than to comfort her. Her breath quickened and she trembled in his arms. A glance at her eyes which still fluttered beneath her lids showed she was still in deep sleep. He frowned, wishing he could take away her pain but knowing there was no way to do that.

The lass was probably having a nightmare. Remembering the death of her brother. Daniel pulled her closer, stroking lightly through her hair, twirling a tendril around his finger. So soft.
He didn’t want to wake her. She needed to work it out in her mind. Mayhap her
dreams were
trying to tell her something. Or maybe it was part of the healing process.

Daniel’s eyes widened as a thought occurred to him.
The lass was muttering things. Reliving what had happened. He’d heard before that if a person talked in their sleep, it was possible to ask them questions and receive answers.
Dare he?
Was it worth the risk of waking her and being on the receiving end of her wrath?

Aye.
Completely worth it.

Daniel pulled her gently closer, hearing her sigh a little in her sleep. She flopped a leg over his thighs and mumbled something. He gritted his teeth. The weight of her thigh a burning reminder of how much he wanted her. His cock was immediately at attention, just waiting for the go ahead from him. Nay. He’d not force himself on her. He had a task to complete. He needed information and God knew she wasn’t willing to share when she was awake.

“Who did this lass?” he asked softly, praying he was right about her nightmare
and what he’d heard of sleep talkers
.

She garbled something unintelligible, snaked her arm around his waist, then whispered,
“Ross
.
”

Daniel gritted his teeth. Ross. The man had been the bane of his cousin Sutherland’s existence.
Magnus Sutherland had been nagged into agreeing to a marriage to Ross’ daughter. The wench would have driven Magnus over the edge. Thank goodness
his cousin
stole away his English bride Arbella, else
he
may have flung himself before the first English army he saw and awaited his death. As if turned out
,
the Englishman he’d stolen Arbella from married Ina Ross—which made the entire clan a force to be reckoned with. Even though the English bastard
swore he’d defected and believed in the Scottish cause, Daniel had always had his doubts, as had Magnus. What they’d not counted on was Laird Ross being behind the treachery.

Damn.

“
Laird
Ross killed
Byron
?” he asked softly
, needing to hear her say it one more time
.

“Aye… All of them.”

All of them. Sounded so ominous. What was the state of Foulis right now? Anger sliced through him. When someone needlessly and violently attacked one of his allies… He would see to it the culprit was punished severely and then sent straight to hell.

Mo creach
..
. Myra’s journey to the Bruce just grew exponentially in
importance
. She was going to tell the Bruce of an enemy within his own group of trusted advisors. Ross was probably on his way to Eilean Donan now, if he wasn’t there already. Ross was a major player in the Bruce’s military. He was a bastard, a drunk and crude, but he knew how to plan an attack, how to train men. Wallace and the Bruce both trusted him.

And he was the enemy.

Chapter
Ten

W
armth filled Myra. ’Twas indeed a most wondrous way to wake. She snuggled deeper into the cocoon of covers she’d burrowed out for herself.

Wait… Keeping her eyes closed, she slowly extended her fingers and touched the hard, hot barrier beside her. Oh, my… Solid, muscled male met her fingertips.

That had her eyes popping open.

Daniel slept soundly beside her and the cocoon she’d thought was made of blankets and pillows was in fact the crook of his shoulder. Light streamed in from a break in the flap that covered the window. Morning. Had she slept beside him all night?

She tossed away the plaid that covered them both to see she and he were both fully clothed. They couldn’t have consummated their handfast with clothes on, could they? And she would have felt it, right?

Myra chewed her lip, trying to recall all the various bodies she’d seen behind walls. There were indeed a few hurried instances where the lovers kept most of their clothes on.

But she had heard that it hurt for a woman the first time. Myra squeezed her thighs together. No pain. Only a dull throb which
grew
worse the more she thought of lovers and lovemaking.

Daniel let out a soft murmur that
had
Myra snatch
ing
the
plaid
back up.
She glanced up at him to see if he was waking, but it didn’t look like he was. In fact, he rolled toward her, slinging a heavy arm over her middle
causing
the air in her lungs
to
whoosh out.

Part of her liked the contact, liked to feel the weight of his arm on her, the other part panicked. She was trapped. Escape
was impossible. She glanced down at his thick arm, the size of a
tree limb
. His leine shirt was well-made and creamy in color. It fit him well, but the way it rested against her it tugged tight in places outlining the shape of his upper and lower arms.

Myra had the urge to touch his arm. To trace the curves and lines. From the corner of her eye she again looked to his face to see if he was awake. His eyes were half hidden by a mass of dark hair that fell over his face but she could still see they
were
closed. Well, if he was asleep he wouldn’t know that she explored his arm, would he?

Nay. And if he woke she would just tell him she was trying to remove his
gigantic
appendage from her person. Haughtiness would take attention away from what she was really doing. Myra had never been this close to a man. She couldn’t give up the opportunity.

For shame
. I
f anyone were to see her she’d be labeled a wanton, even if she was handfasted. A woman should never be curious about a man’s body. Well, poo to that, she was going to touch him.

Since her right arm was pinned tight against his warm chest, she gently took her left arm from beneath the covers, feeling the chill of the room instantly. Gooseflesh rose over her limbs and her teeth almost started to chatter—she clamped her jaw tight to keep them still. Myra was certain the winter air seeping into the room had nothing to do with her sudden chill. What she was about to do had everything to do with it.

Using her index finger, she touched the top of his bare wrist, taking in the tiny dark hairs that dusted his arm. She slid her finger up until the leine shirt
stretched to its capacity stopping her from going further. Daniel’s a
rm hair tickl
ed
her sensitive fingertip. Corded muscle and sinew met her touch. He was thick
. W
here she could feel the bone on her arm if she followed it up to the elbow with her fingers, she could barely
feel his. Daniel’s flesh was hot. If he were a fire, he could heat a room with his body. Where
she
touched him sizzled and beneath the blanket the shared
,
warm air
surrounded her.

Daniel sighed, his breath shifting her hair until it tickled her cheek. She stopped moving. Waited. One, two, three… He didn’t say anything, didn’t move. Still asleep.

She nodded, convinced, and turned slightly to see his still closed eyes. At his elbow, she flattened her palm over the thickest part of his upper arm. Massive. She couldn’t even reach her fingertips around halfway. His arm was all muscle, thick, hard. Myra wanted to squeeze it, to see just how strong he was, but that would surely wake him. She settled for stroking up and down and over the bunches of muscle.

A sigh escaped her. She liked his arm. Hadn’t realized how much touching a man’s arm would make her feel…hot. Lightheaded. The sensations whipping through her body, playing with her mind, they brought to mind yearning. Wanting, desire. She’d never felt it before. Not until now. And it was intense. Myra suddenly wanted him to kiss her again. She didn’t so much mind the weight of his arm over her belly. In fact, she kind of wanted to remain like this for a while longer.

A loud grumbling sound from her stomach broke the spell. Thank God.
She could not lay here all day stroking the man.

She flung his arm aside and hurried from the bed, screeching when her bare toes hit the frozen wooden planked floor.

“Good morning,” Daniel said from behind her.

Myra hopped from one foot to the other as she turned to face him. His hair was rumpled, still half in his face as he gazed at her. The expression on his face looked…amused. Was it in reaction to her freezing or the molestation she’d done
to
his arm?

“Morning,” she said, pleased with her clipped tone. If he did happen to wake to part of her exploration there was no need for
his pride to inflate
over it.

Myra turned away from him and poured water from the pitcher on the side table into the basin, then bent to splash some on her face. Felt like she was splashing frozen loch water onto her face. A violent shiver took over for a minute.

Placing her hands on either side of the table, she stood there, half bent, staring into the bowl of water. What was it about this man that made her half mad? She was not at all herself. Was that the way it was supposed to be? She couldn’t afford to let herself become enraptured by him. To let her mind go. She had a promise to fulfill. A nation to save. The Bruce’s life and every warrior who fought for him had their lives on the line.

The Ross was a traitor. Sided with the English, it was only a matter of time before he led troops to their camp. An ambush for sure. ’Twas the preferred method of the Sassenachs, and exactly how Ross himself fought. The bastard. Anger surged through her. Fury, regret, soul-wrenching pain. That man had taken everything from her.

No matter how much Daniel appealed to her, or how much her curiosity longed to quench its thirst, she could not allow him to become a distraction to her. There was too much at stake.

Myra had to think like a laird. Hell, she didn’t even know how many of her people survived. If they even knew she’d survived. She’d taken Rose and fled. The only thing she could pray was that when they didn’t find her or Rose’s bodies, they knew she’d taken Byron’s wife and child to safety.

“Are ye all right, lass?” Daniel touched the small of her back and Myra jumped.

She’d not even heard him climb from the bed. Squeezing her eyes shut for the span of a heartbeat she turned around to face him.

“Perfectly. Just trying to become accustomed to the cold. The bed was a mite warmer.” She beamed a smile at him, hoping he’d not question her further.

“Aye. ’Twas warmer.” His eyes which had been clear when she turned around were now shuttered.

He was hiding something from her. Or else he was trying to hide the fact that he realized she’d lied. Myra frowned for a second then walked toward the one small window. Pulling back the covering, she peered outside. The sky was grey and cloudy and the sharp breeze th
at
whipped inside smelled of snow.

“’Twill snow soon,” Daniel said, as if reading her thoughts. “We’d best gather the men and head out. I’ll not spend another night here.”

Here or in her arms?

Myra swallowed back her questions. She didn’t care—or at least that was what she was telling herself. No more games. No more trying to figure out why this man wanted her one minute and not the next. Once she relayed her message safely to the Bruce, she’d ask for an escort and return to Foulis. Where she belonged.

“Nor I,” she replied softly.

She heard the splash of water as Daniel washed his face, but she refused to turn around. Having that vision of him, even for something so
mundane
, was intimate, she didn’t want it in her mind. Didn’t want to remember such an inane thing about him. No need for thoughts of domesticity clouding her mind.

There was a rustling of noise which she assumed was Daniel donning his weapons and packing up his satchel.

“I’m for the stables. When ye finish in here, meet me there.”

Myra nodded and waited for the sound of the door closing before she turned away from the window. She located her hose and boots and pulled them on. Then found her cloak,
which thankfully hadn’t retained as much damage as her gown.

She’d brought nothing else with her.
A bitter reminder of all she’d lost.
Leaving the room behind, Myra descended the stairs into the rather quiet inn. Upon a table was a plate of stale-looking rolls. Grabbing one, she bit into it. Stale. Slightly moldy. But who was she to complain? There was nothing else to eat for now. And she dared not ask Daniel for something.

The Murray men
were gathered in the courtyard, their horses readied and they appeared only to be waiting for her. Daniel eyed her wearily and she couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his mind. ’Twas obvious he kept more inside than he wanted to and she suspected that was hard for him. He was not a shy man,
and contradictorily not
one prone to
sharing
his mind. Why did he act thusly with her?

“My lady,” he muttered, offering her a hand.

Myra stuffed the last bit of bread in her mouth and placed her hand into his. He hoisted her up onto the horse and then came up behind her.

Oh, joy… She’d forgotten about how uncomfortable riding was with him. Myra stiffened her back so that she sat ramrod straight.

“How long shall we travel today?” she asked.

“As long as the weather will allow us,” he said, gruffly and shifted.

Myra sighed deeply with resignation. Daniel was likely to shift and grunt the whole of it. She prayed however that they were able to travel until dark and until they found shelter and without any snow falling. Traveling in winter was treacherous. Especially at this time of year. The winter solstice was upon them. Snow was inevitable.

As it was, the grass was covered in frost and her breath came out in white puffs before her face. Myra wiggled her toes. At least they weren’t likely to be frozen for a little while.

Daniel kicked his horse into a trot
and Myra was unable to control her sudden fall backward. Her back hit the wall of his muscled chest, taking her breath away. She was quick to pull back upright, but it didn’t matter. That sudden contact, however unromantic and unintentional still sparked something inside her. Zounds! No matter how hard she tried… Her body would always betray her when Daniel was near. Thank the saints he wasn’t the enemy, at least in a literal sense.

S
oon
Daniel
and his men were galloping over the
deserted,
pack
ed
dirt
road. Myra was lost in her thoughts. Trying to think back to the day the castle was attacked. Was there any sort of warning?

Other than the visit from Laird Sutherland? What made her brother not take heed? He’d said in his last words from her that an attack from Ross had been warned of. Was it because Myra was supposed to marry the old earl that Byron hoped it wasn’t true?

There were too many unanswered questions that Myra would never see put to rest. Byron was gone
and with
him
a piece of herself and the answers to her questions.
Her heart ached for her lost brother. She prayed that those who survived thought to look in the darkened corridors behind the walls for her brother. But if there were no survivors he may still be there, his soul doomed to walk in Purgatory until a priest could be found to give him a blessing and his remains laid to rest.