Wed to a Highland Warrior (2 page)

“Aye, we should continue to appear so in case other soldiers approach us.”

She shook her head a bit too frantically, worried that he would fail to understand the truth. She poked his chest repeatedly, hoping to make him pay closer attention. “You”—she tapped her chest—“and I, are wed. We are truly husband and wife.”

Chapter 2

T
rey almost laughed aloud, the jabs to his chest having amused him since he barely felt them, but when he saw that Bliss was quite serious, he curtailed his humorous response. Her lovely pale blue eyes, which only moments before had sparkled, appeared shadowed with concern. And though her words made no sense, no vows having been exchanged, he sensed that there was more to her claim than he realized.

He did not know this woman well though he knew well the comfort and skill of her healing touch. She had stroked his brow, had touched his wounds, and had used whatever power had been granted her to heal him. He had been drowning in a sea of frightful visions and consumed by such suffocating heat that he had thought he had died and gone to hell.

Then, suddenly, a gentle, cooling hand had pulled him free. And he had caught a brief glimpse of an angel’s exquisite face. That angel now claimed that he was her husband.

“What exactly do you mean that we are truly wed?” he asked.

“Picts wed by laying claim to each other.”

It took a moment for him to realize what she meant. “When I said you were my wife, I took you as my wife?”

“Aye, and I sealed our spoken vows when I claimed you as my husband,” she said. “Both must proclaim the other as husband and wife for the vow to be final. In the eyes of my people, we are husband and wife.”

“A few words, and we are sealed as one? No documents to sign? No arrangements made? Simply an exchange of words?” He found it difficult to believe, but, surprisingly, he was not troubled over the situation. No doubt it could be rectified.

“A few words can hold so much more power than people know. Just think of the tremendous power of the three words—I love you.”

His heart jolted with the memory of once not only hearing those words but speaking them. “You’re right. Three small words can bring tremendous happiness—or great pain.”

Bliss smiled. “To say I love you means you will surely taste of happiness and pain. That is why it is so important to choose carefully the words you speak, for often they cannot be rescinded.”

“What of Pict wedding vows?”

“A few clearly stated words, and our wedding vows can be rescinded as easily as they were made.”

One did not take wedding vows lightly, even if spoken in haste. And he needed time to consider this. “I don’t believe it would be wise of us to rush and do that. It may be better to remain husband and wife until I deliver you safely home.” It was a sensible decision not to separate from her just yet. She needed protection, a woman on her own, and if being wed to him brought her that, then married they would remain until he was certain she was safe from harm. And he could sort this strange situation out for himself.

Perhaps this tug he felt to protect her was nothing more than indebtedness for what she had done for him though she did intrigue him. She was a pagan, her beliefs far different from his, and she was beautiful. Tall and slim, with long hair that shimmered as if spun with gold. A pale, smooth complexion, a round face with lips the color of a pink rose at first bloom. She startled his eyes, tightened his groin, and tempted him to abandon all sound reason—and kiss her.

The thought jolted him, and he realized she had yet to respond though he couldn’t recall what he was waiting for her to respond to. When he remembered it concerned not rescinding their vows just yet, he wondered what caused her delayed reply.

Was she regretting her actions and anxious to correct them? Or was she weighing what was best for her? Then he recalled that she was a seer and wondered what she knew that he didn’t.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” he asked with distinct firmness to his tone.

“I share the truth with you.”

“What of your visions?”

She nodded understanding what he asked. “I knew that a powerful warrior would emerge from the woods to help me.” She did not share the part about his being her future husband.

“So you would have claimed any warrior as your mate?” he asked with a shred of annoyance.

“You are not any warrior. You are one of four brothers, though not blood related, one of which is the rightful king of Scotland.”

He grew annoyed at himself for not having realized the implication of her skill and grabbed her arm. “We have to get moving. That young soldier will realize soon enough that you can foresee the true king’s identity, and no doubt he will gather more soldiers to come find you.”

“The king has a seer of his own, so claimed one of the soldiers. She could provide the answer he seeks.”

“Evidently, she’s not as skillful as you or else the true king’s identity would be known by now.”

He hurried her along, keeping tight hold of her arm as thunder rumbled in the distance, gray clouds gathered in force overhead, and chilled air nipped at their skin.

“We need to find shelter before the storm hits,” he said. “Old Jacob’s cottage is not far.”

“It blusters, but little rain will fall. And I must make use of what daylight is left. An ill woman, a friend, needs tending,” she said, and eased them to a stop. “I do appreciate your help, but it’s a good day’s journey I must make, and you should not delay your task any longer. Tell me that you no longer wish me as your wife, and I will acknowledge the same of you, and you can be on your way.”

Trey couldn’t say why he hesitated. He was concerned that the soldiers would come after her, and they would not be so easily discouraged this time. She had something the king wanted, and no doubt the king would order a decree—bring her to him or die trying.

But that was no reason to remain wed to her. Even if the soldiers did find them, they would assume they were still wed. So why not speak the words and be done with it?

Instead, he asked, “You journey home to tend this woman? I could see you safely there.”

Her people were fine warriors and could well defend her. Though he worried that such important information could have the king break his habit of keeping his distance from Pict territory and attack them. She would be safer with him and his brothers, and so would the true king’s identity. But could he convince her of that?

“She lives beyond the Pict border.”

“Then I go with you,” Trey said. That would give him time to convince her to return home with him until—that was the question. Until the true king’s identity was known, she would not be safe.

“That isn’t necessary,” Bliss said. “I do not know how long the healing will take and—”

“It matters not. I will stay with you as long as needed.”

“Your family will wonder where you are and worry. And are you not needed there?” she asked, resting a gentle hand on his arm.

“They can make do without me for a while, and if I leave you unprotected, I leave the true king vulnerable. That I cannot do. I go with you whether you want me to or not,” he said. “We will stop at Old Jacob’s place, where Willow and Stone wait, and I will let them know I will not be returning with them. This will settle any worries my family would have over my absence.”

Bliss had met Stone, a fine seer in his own right, while healing Trey. He was a good friend of Tara’s, Reeve’s wife, and had helped her solve a difficult problem.

“What of Stone? He would know the true king’s identity. Is he not vulnerable?” The answer came to her before he could respond. “He cannot see which one of you is the king.”

Trey nodded. “Stone spoke with my da and brothers and explained that he sees what he is meant to see and no more. And it appears he was not meant to know the true king’s identity. You apparently are, and therefore, I will see you safe, not only for your protection but for the king’s.”

“I sense there is no point in arguing with you. Your reasoning makes sense, and you will have your way.”

“That I will,” he said, and, taking her hand once again, they continued walking.

She followed alongside in silence, recalling the image that had assaulted her when he had first taken her hand. A blond woman crying and running into his arms, and he hugged her tightly. It had upset Bliss. Why? She didn’t know. She tucked the vision away once more, knowing one day it would surface, and so would her upset.

“We must not delay,” she said, “though it will be good to see Willow again.”

“A brief stop; though with its being months since you last saw Willow, you two may not stop talking.”

She laughed. “That is true. I do favor your family, and I made good friends with Mercy and Tara, Duncan and Reeve’s wives. Your mother was very nice as well.”

“You’re the only woman I know that my mum did not dictate to.”

“Your mum wanted my help. Her only concern was for you to survive and be well.”

Trey stopped, bringing them to an abrupt halt and shook his head. “That may be so, but my mum has a way about her, abrupt more times than not.”

“Though not out of malice, more out of concern for her flock.”

“But not once was she that way with you,” he said, shaking his head again. “I heard Mercy, Tara, and Willow speaking about it when they thought I slept. All three were amazed at how kindly my mum spoke to you, not a bite or sting to her tongue.”

“She would not talk such to the person who she hoped would help heal her son.”

“That proves you don’t know my mum.”

Bliss smiled. “I know your mum better than you think.”

This time he nodded and kept nodding as he spoke. “You know something about her. Something she fears you will reveal, and so she speaks more respectfully to you than to others.”

“I know she is a good woman with a good heart—and a heavy burden.”

“How can I help ease her burden?”

“You cannot. It is for her to carry and release when the time comes,” Bliss said, impressed he had not demanded she reveal what she knew but instead asked how he could help his mum. And he didn’t argue, protest, or debate her response, and that pleased her. He accepted her explanation and let it be.

They started walking again, this time keeping a steady pace.

Bliss was surprised that their hands remained joined, firmly locked together as if neither of them wished to let go. It seemed an instinctive action, natural, something they did often and yet, they hadn’t.

She thought back to the moment when she first sensed that it was her future husband who approached. She wished she had sensed more in regard to him. Though it had been clear he would be her husband, there had been no indication of anything else. Did that mean they were destined to remain husband and wife? Was she meant to love this man and was he meant to love her? Were they truly meant to be together?

She wished for answers, but none came. In time, things would be revealed to her. She’d be patient—at least she hoped she would.

They came upon the cottage, and Willow ran to them, her red hair blowing wildly around her face.

“Soldiers are near,” she said after giving Bliss a hug. “Stone spotted them while he searched the area. He told me to pack fast and warn you”—she nodded at Trey—“when you returned. Stone is keeping watch now. We’re to meet him at the north end of the croft.”

Willow smiled at Bliss. “There’ll be time for us to talk when we reach the keep. Mercy and Tara will be so pleased to see you.”

“I can’t come with you,” Bliss said, and tried to slip her hand free of Trey’s, but his grip was strong, and he refused to let go.

“As much as I’d prefer to take Bliss home and see her safe, there is an ill woman in need of her skill,” Trey said, and Willow nodded. “Go join Stone and explain to him what has happened and make sure to let my family know so they do not worry.”

Willow hugged Bliss again, and whispered, “Tell me I’ll see you both again, so that I may leave without concern.”

“You will,” she whispered in return, and Willow smiled.

“Go,” Trey urged.

“I filled two sacks with food. I will take one; you take the other. It’s by the door,” she said, pointing. “And take blankets from the house—the day is growing colder.”

With a hug to Trey and a wave to them both, she was gone.

“We have no time to spare,” Trey said. “No doubt the soldiers will show up here to see if anyone has returned.”

“They are not far,” Bliss warned.

“Then we hurry.”

Bliss collected blankets while Trey grabbed the sack and kept watch. As soon as she was out of the cottage, Trey once again took hold of her hand.

“Can you keep a fast pace?” he asked, as they hurried off, the cottage disappearing from view behind them.

She smiled. “One you no doubt will have difficulty matching.”

He laughed. “I doubt that.”

They were a good match, their steps perfectly aligned and in rhythm. They spared no time for talking, their focus strictly on keeping a good gait. Only when dusk drew near did Trey slow them to a stop.

“We need to find shelter for the night,” he said.

“There is a grove of trees not far that would provide sufficient shelter.”

Trey nodded, and it wasn’t long after that they arrived at the secluded grove.

The circle of oak trees stood like alert sentinels, followed by another and another and another circle of oaks that eventually brought them to a small clearing.

“We may build a fire, but use only the broken branches and sticks on the ground. You must not break any branches off the oaks,” Bliss warned. “This is a scared grove and must be respected.”

“A sacred grove?” Trey asked.

“Aye, this land was once solely Pict territory, and many would come here to exchange vows or ask for help or simply seek a peaceful moment.”

“So this is like a church of sorts,” Trey said.

“To those who believe in our ways, aye it is.”

He released her hand and walked around the confined area. “The soaring height of the trees and the magnificent branches naked in preparation of winter’s rest make for an incredible roof and the thick trunks make for solid walls, and”—he nodded slowly—“it is peaceful here.”

“And safe,” she said. “The grove only welcomes those who know the way in.”

They went to work gathering wood and setting a campfire. Bliss spread out wool blankets on either side of the roaring flames, their cloaks serving as blankets.