Highland Promise (40 page)

        "Who then?"

        "I am not sure yet. Now go to sleep and do not worry so. It is an insult to me." He closed his eyes.

        She rested her head against his chest and whispered, "I did not mean to insult you."

        He grunted.

        Her warm breath blew against his chest. "Brendan, despite your surly disposition, I am glad you are home."

        "And?" he demanded.

        "I love you."

        He had needed to hear her say the words again. He didn't understand this weakness, but relief eased through him and he relaxed. He wrapped an arm around her, drawing her closer and tucking her head under his chin.

        "Brendan, if King Henry had refused your suit, would you have stolen me?"

Twenty Five

         For the next three days, Faith felt like she was gliding across clouds. Brendan never said he would have stolen her. He just tightened his embrace and grunted. She took that to mean he would have and joy filled her soul. He spent much of his time near her, acting like he was ignoring her. But every once in a while she would glance up and find him watching her through a fiery gaze that made her insides melt. He never complimented her growing command of Gaelic. She knew he was pleased with her progress though. Anytime she spoke Gaelic to him, he would kiss her before responding. He even praised her for weaving his colors and demanded the first length of completed cloth for himself.

         Her favorite time was night. Brendan would hold her in his arms and warm her shivers away. Peace reigned over their relationship, and Faith was proud of herself for not riling his temper or losing hers. She decided her marriage wasn't a penance at all. It was a reward for some unknown good deed.

        She worried about Brendan's headaches though. They pestered him every day, and she massaged them away each evening. She asked him again to discuss his troubles with her, but he remained stubborn. She decided her duty was to remove any worries she could by maintaining a well-ordered home.

        One morning Brendan left with Michael to visit some shepherds who had reported an increase in wolf attacks since moving their flocks to the meadow at the base of the mountain. Faith decided to take Brendan his nooning meal. Tormey, who was assigned to her that day, tried to talk her into staying indoors. Roland gave the Irishman a disgusted look and volunteered to accompany her. Faith asked Gemma to have Annis prepare a pouch of food. Then she headed up to her chamber to get her gloves, scarves, and a beautiful plaid cloak she had made and lined with soft rabbit pelts. After bundling herself from head to toe, she returned to the hall.

        "You should listen to Tormey, lass," Alfrid called from a chair near the hearth. "First time I ever knew that Irish to show any sense."

        "You should not say such a thing about Tormey." Faith smiled at the Irishman's disgruntled grunt. "He made sense about something just the other day when he explained to me about avalanches."

        Disbelieving brows rose over the elder's eyes. "And just what did he tell you?"

        "They do not happen until there have been several heavy snow storms. Sometimes you can see a crack in the snow if one is about to happen, and Heaven help anyone close enough to see the crack." Faith accepted the food pouch from Gemma. "My thanks."

        Alfrid shook his head and rubbed his knee. "Well, my old bones tell me we'll see freezing rain or snow by mid-afternoon. You ought to stay in. It would not do for you to take to ailing."

        "I shall be fine, Alfrid, and back before the weather goes bad. But I thank you for caring." Faith headed for the door.

        "Aye, the laird will ensure she gets back." Roland held the door open for Faith. "He'll probably scold her good for going out."

        "Brendan will not scold me if I handle him right."

        "I need to learn how to handle you right," the commander said. "I don't suppose you'll let me talk you into a ride down the mountain?"

        "You suppose right," she replied with her sweetest smile.

        A chill settled in Faith's bones as she kept pace with Roland's long strides down the mountain path. Her breaths came in short puffs of frosty air while she clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. The trails were deserted. Most of the clan sought comforts to be found only indoors.

        "Have you decided what you'll say to the laird?" Roland asked.

        "About what?"

        He chuckled and rubbed his hands briskly together. "About why you're out in this wintry weather. Your tale will have to be good to placate him."

        "I'm not worried. He will grumble and chide me, but nothing more." Faith arched a brow and smiled. "Have you decided what you will say?"

        "I'll tell him that he should know he has a hardheaded wife. I came only to protect her, knowing that stopping you would be impossible." Roland's eyes twinkled and he winked. She decided he would be quite charming if he learned not to frown so much.

        "Then I shall tell him I have heard that stubbornness is a Sutherland trait. I seek only to fit in," she sallied.

        "You're one of the few women I've met who doesn't fear our laird or call him Stoneheart behind his back."

        Faith chose to accept his words as a compliment. "I could never love him if I feared him, and there is naught stony about his heart. Though I think he fears me a little."

        "Our laird would never fear a woman," Roland declared.

        "It is not so much me he fears as himself. I think he loves me and that scares him." Faith pulled her cloak more securely around herself and hunched her shoulders. "I probably shouldn't discuss this with you, but it took me a while to figure him out and I am happy."

        "The laird swore to love no woman. He claims 'tis a weakness." He turned a speculative gaze on her. "Did he tell you he loves you?

        "He never said so with words, but he told me just the same."

        Roland looked skeptical.

        Faith glanced about as they neared the bottom of the trail. She grinned up at Roland and confided, "He would have stolen me if King Henry had not allowed the wedding."

        "He actually told you this?" he asked astonished.

        She shrugged, then shivered. "In his own charming way he did."

        "Well, I know for certain you love him to call him charming. Most women think he has all the charm of a Viking on a raid."

        "He has at least a wee bit more charm than that," she jested.

~ * ~

        Dog barked and took off across the field just as Brendan finished conversing with the shepherds. Standing near the loch at the easterly base of the north mountain, he spotted Faith and Roland walking toward him. His wife was covered head to foot in his colors with only a slight opening for her eyes to peek through. As she neared, Brendan decided she was shivering enough to quake the earth beneath him. He ought to wring her neck for coming out in this cold.

        "Faith, what are you doing out here?" he demanded, hands on hips. "You should be inside near a fire."

        "I am glad to see you too." Her throaty chuckle sizzled through him. She pulled the scarf from her face, then stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. "I came to bring you food since you missed the nooning."

        She completely ignored his point. He didn't know why he put up with such insolence, but he couldn't scold her because her gesture made his day brighter. He turned his irritation on his commander. "Roland, why did you let her come out, and where is Tormey? I thought he was with her today."

        Roland gave Faith an I-told-you-so look. "The Irishman has an aversion to the day's fine weather. He is the one huddling near the hearth. As for letting your wife come, you will forgive me, laird, if I say she is stubborn and I sought only to protect her."

        "It is rude to speak of me as if I'm not here," Faith admonished, wearing an adorable glower.

        "Have you noticed, Bren?" Michael asked.

        He was too busy noticing his wife's kissable lips to notice much else. He even detected the faintest hint of lavender in the crisp wintry air. "Noticed what?"

        "Your wife's Gaelic has improved in the six weeks since she arrived," the warrior boasted. "She only asked me for help twice yesterday."

        "My wife is an intelligent woman." And her nose was delightfully pink from the nippy air.

        She tipped up her chin and favored him with a victorious smile. "Then you must admit I am smart enough to judge the weather."

        He should have known better than to give a woman praise. "We'll discuss this later. Give me the food and Roland will take you back."

        "I shall do nothing of the kind." She walked toward a large boulder. "I mean to serve you and keep you company."

        "I'll be angry if your sniffles come back," he warned.

        "So will I," she assured him. "I didn't enjoy them the least little bit."

        She set her pouch on the large rock and removed the food and a skin of wine. "The bread was hot when I left the keep, but I fear 'tis near frozen now. May I borrow your dagger to cut the cheese, Michael?"

        The warrior offered her the hilt of his blade. "Why do you not carry a dagger for such tasks? Most women do."

        She shrugged, accepting the dagger. "I just never have. I'm not sure why. But I don't need one with Brendan and all of you around." Faith broke the bread and handed it to Brendan and Michael. She cut the cheese and laid it on a cloth for the men, then gazed out at the lake. "The loch is beautiful. It should freeze well enough for some enjoyable ice sliding."

        "Aye." Michael munched on a bite of cheese. "But in this valley, it never freezes enough until after the third snow."

        Brendan gave Faith a stern frown. "You need not worry about how long it takes to freeze. This is the last time you're coming near the loch until spring."

        "We shall see," she replied nonchalantly.

        Brendan remembered Duncan's warning about women doing as they damn well pleased. Faith needed close watching. She would die before the winter was out if he didn't chain her inside the keep. He bit off a chunk of cheese and made plans. The chains would have to bind her near the hearth to keep her warm. Her flesh was tender. He would have to get some lamb's fleece to pad her flesh and keep the metal from chafing. Mayhap he should pass this idea along to Duncan. It held merit.

        As the men ate, wind whipped over the mountain like a lash fraying a criminal's hide. Dark gray clouds rode in on the wind and unleashed shards of frozen rain. Brendan pulled Faith against him to shield her from the brunt of the storm.

        "To the old shepherd's cottage at the end of the meadow, Faith," he ordered.

        She nodded and took off.

        "But laird," Roland called over the howling wind. "The stench."

        "We'll put up with it until the worst of the storm passes," Brendan answered, then raced after his wife.

        Brendan caught up with Faith as she ran into the hut. She turned back and rammed against him, trying to push him aside. He grabbed her arms

and tried to force her inside and away from the icy rain.

        "Nay!" she screamed, shoving against him with an amazing burst of energy for such a small woman.

        Her face held no color and her eyes were cloudy blue. He didn't know what terrified her, but she should know she was safe with him. "We must stay, Faith. When the storm ceases, we—"

        "Nay!" With a mighty heave, she shoved, then jerked away from him and ran wildly as if she had no destination in mind. Michael caught her and she pounded on his chest. "Nay, do not take me back!"

        Michael looked in askance toward Brendan. "Jamie and Kirsten are almost as close, Bren."

        Brendan lifted her in his arms and ran to his warrior's hut. He might not understand what had frightened his wife, but he knew her fears were real, because his heart slammed inside his chest as he felt her panic.

        Jamie was away, but Kirsten welcomed them and ushered Faith to a stool near the hearth. Brendan knelt in front of Faith and peeled away her wet cloak. Then he wrapped her in a warm quilt Kirsten provided.

        His worry mounted. Terror masked Faith's delicate features. She hadn't spoken since they arrived. She just stared at the flames. Her gloved hands clenched into fists, and she hadn't done that in weeks.

        He picked her up and sat on the stool with her on his lap. He tucked her head under his chin, holding her close, trying to put some heat back into her frozen limbs. He rubbed his hands over her back and spoke soothing words.

        "We need a priest," she finally whispered in a shaky voice.

        "For who?" he asked gently.

        Faith closed her eye and shook her head. "All of them."

        "All of who?"

        "The dead."

~ * ~

        After ordering Michael to guard Faith, Brendan left with Roland to inspect the hut and determine what had scared the wits out of his wife. They stood inside the mound cottage and stared in disbelief at the carnage.

        All his years and battles hadn't prepared Brendan for the gruesome sight inside the hut. The stench was bad enough to make him gag, but the twelve brutalized bodies at various stages of decay knotted his gut. He forced swallows to keep from retching.

        Roland fled the hut and gagged outside. He reappeared in the doorway, his face an ashen mask. "By Thor, this is an abomination."

        Brendan knelt by a body near the entrance and fingered a shell necklace about the bony neck. Long golden hair flowed from the faceless corpse. Grief loomed at the thought of the tortures his young clanswoman had endured.

        "Now we know Suisan's fate." His voice sounded gruff in his own

ears. "See you any clue as to who the rest are?"

        "Nay." Roland glanced about the hut, not approaching any of the bodies. "I know of no others from clan Sutherland missing."