Highland Sinner (36 page)

Although there was still a glint of humor in the man’s eyes, there was a hardness in his voice. Adam had thus far said nothing about the relationship between his sister and Tormand, but it was clear that that grace period was over. Tormand was tempted to remind the man that he had only just laid claim to his sister, but bit back the words. The man had had his reasons for that silence and Morainn had accepted them.

“Aye, I am and I dinnae intend to leave the lass alone until she says aye.”

“And do ye intend to honor your vows?”

“Aye,” Tormand said between tightly gritted teeth. “Now, may I leave so that I may chase the foolish wench down and talk sense to her?”

“One last thing.” Adam pulled a sealed pack of documents from inside his shirt. “When ye get her to say aye, open this.”

Tormand took the documents, tucked them inside his shirt and hurried out of the house. He would need the ride to the cottage to calm his temper, he decided. It would not do to go storming into her home demanding answers. In a way, he had to accept some blame for her leaving. He should have been clearer in telling her what he wanted, what he felt. This time he would make sure there were no misunderstandings, even if it meant he had to swallow a large portion of his own pride.

Catching sight of Uilliam on his way back from court, he enlisted his brother’s help. It would make things a great deal easier if he and Morainn could thrash out their troubles without Walin listening to every word. Tormand was grateful for Uilliam’s cooperation, but even more so for his silence as they rode.

Never having been in love before, Tormand knew he was going to have to plan every word he would say. It would take some skill to convince Morainn that he was a changed man.

Chapter 20

Morainn stared at her garden and knew it was going to take a long time to feel any joy in it again. The cats were draped over or sprawled in all their favorite spots, Walin kicked a ball around carefully to keep it from rolling into the beds and crushing tender plants, and Nora’s cousin had taken such good care of the garden that there was not even any weeding to be done. The garden had always been her pride and joy, but she felt none of those emotions as she looked at it now.

It was all Tormand’s fault, she decided crossly, ignoring the little voice in her head that scolded her for her foolishness. Foolish would have been staying with a man like Tormand Murray. He was so far above her touch she could almost hear the loud guffaws of ridicule when she even thought she could have him for her own. He had saved her life, protected her, and given her the greatest pleasure she had ever known. She could ask no more of the man.

A part of her, one she decided was a glutton for punishment, wanted her to go back to Tormand’s house and make a few demands of him. Did he love her? Did he care about her at all? Had he yet overcome his
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aversion to marriage? Did he ever foresee a day when he could vow fidelity to a woman? She told herself she probably would not like his answers.

And then there was Walin. He was Tormand’s son. She really had no right to the child even if she had been caring for him for four years. It was not Tormand’s fault that he had never known about Walin.

Tormand knew now and he wanted the boy. He would also make a very good father, of that she had no doubt. She did not have any right even to try to deny the child what would be a far better life than she could ever give him. Although Tormand had said they would share the raising of the child, she knew he had meant that sharing to take place beneath his roof.

And once he did not want her in his bed? she asked herself. She would simply become Walin’s nursemaid and have to watch the man she loved return to his lecherous ways. Worse, if Walin were to be trained as the son of a knight, a wealthy man, he would not be in need of a nursemaid for long.

She and Tormand could get married, she thought, as she moved to sit on the rough log bench in the shade. She was almost certain that Tormand had been hinting at that, but she had ignored him. Even her brother had thought it would be a good idea.

Morainn sighed. She did not want Tormand to marry her just because neither of them wanted to be separated from Walin. That was not the sort of marriage that kept a man faithful to his wife, especially not a man like Tormand, who was used to having his choice of women. She needed him to be bound to her in heart, mind, and soul, just as she had tried to tell her very cynical brother and just as she was already bound to Tormand. It was the only way she could feel certain that she would not spend the rest of her days wondering whose bed her husband had crawled into now.

True, she had heard Tormand speak of having some sort of epiphany about his lecherous past, but how long would that last before he fell back into his old ways? A man who was used to a constant variety of dishes did not suddenly become content with mutton stew every night. If she were married to him when he fell back into his old habits, she would slowly be crushed under the weight of her own heartache. She knew that as certainly as she knew her own name and no amount of thinking, talking, or persuasion could ever change that cold, hard fact. The more she went through the litany of whys and why nots, the dizzier and the more unhappy she became.

A sudden quiet pulled Morainn out of her dark thoughts and self-pity. She realized she could no longer hear Walin playing with his ball. Just as she was about to get up and look for him, a tall, very familiar figure entered her garden and strode toward her. For a brief moment she considered running, but then sternly told herself not to be such a coward. She had known a confrontation was coming; she had just hoped for more time to prepare for it. The sound of Walin’s laughter and a horse riding away told her what had happened and she could almost hear her heart break.

“Ye came to take Walin back,” she said, as Tormand stopped to stand in front of her.

“Dinnae be such a complete idiot,” he snapped, then cursed and sat down beside her.

She knew she ought to take offense at that remark, but she was too busy trying not to cry. It was not just because of the loss of Walin, either. Tormand was dressed in his plaid and a fine linen shirt. He looked so handsome it almost hurt to look at him, especially knowing that this was a man she could never have.

“I didnae come to take Walin away from ye,” he said, after several moments of looking aimlessly around her garden. “I but sent him away with Uilliam so that ye and I could speak. Alone. Without weighing every word we said because a boy of six was near and listening. And so we could talk without interruptions.”

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That sounded ominous and Morainn tensed, clenching her hands tightly together in her lap. “Talk about what?”

“Why dinnae we start with why ye left?”

There was a touch of anger in his voice and Morainn wondered if she had bruised his pride. “I am healed, we found the killers, and ye are now safe. There wasnae really any other reason for me to stay, was there?”

“I see. So ye took your fill of me and then walked away. Is that it?”

Tormand nearly grimaced. He sounded like some outraged maiden or, worse, like some of the women he had been with, the ones who thought themselves so skilled, so beautiful, that they could entrap him with such shallow bait. He would feel guilty about that, but he sincerely doubted any of them had felt the pain he did right now. He had always been careful to avoid any women with tender hearts or high expectations.

“Weel, nay, of course not. And, if I recall right, ye came to my bed. I didnae seek ye out. And if I took what I wanted of something freely offered, who are ye to act so outraged? Isnae that what ye have been doing for years?”

That stung, but she was right. Yet, he could not completely banish that outrage. Morainn was supposed to be different from all the other women he had known. In his heart he knew she was. He was saying everything wrong and it was angering her, maybe even hurting her. He knew her well enough now to know that those two emotions put a very sharp edge on her tongue. Somehow he would have to keep his own temper and fear under control and weigh his words very carefully. Nothing would be accomplished if they just kept snapping and snarling at each other. He had intended to do that, but seeing her had stirred up all his anger and hurt again.

It was not going to be easy, he decided as he stood up and began to pace back and forth in front of her.

He was terrified of offering her all he had only to discover that she did not want it. It was true that he had wooed her, but he could not be sure that he had won her. For once in his life he cared how a woman felt about him and he did not know which way to step next. Turning to look at her, he found her watching him a little warily. He was probably acting like some madman.

“I thought we could marry and raise Walin together.” A look passed quickly over her face and he realized he had hurt her with those words. Strangely enough that gave him hope. He could not hurt her if she did not care for him.

“Walin is like my own child. Aye, when he was left upon my threshold I tried to find his mother or his father, any kin at all, but I wasnae terribly disappointed that no one kenned where he had come from.”

She sighed and stared down at her hands. “I was so verra alone and then, there was Walin. He was like some precious gift. I wasnae alone anymore. I had someone who loved me and needed me, someone I could love back, and someone who didnae care if I had visions. We have ne’er been apart since the day I picked him up off my threshold, save for a few hours here and there, but I willnae marry a mon just for his sake.”

“Why not?”

“Because that is a verra weak foundation for a marriage.”

Tormand grabbed her by her hands, pulled her into his arms, and then kissed her until she was clinging to him. “And what about that? What about the fire that burns between us?”

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She pushed him away. “Ye have warmed yourself against far too many fires and ne’er once married. Ye would try to ensnare me with passion? Ye who have been dodging just such a snare for many years?”

“Passion is a strong bond within a marriage and is no trap if I step into it willingly. What are ye asking of me? Tell me so that I cease stepping on my cursed tongue.”

Morainn stared at him, her mouth still warm from his kiss. He truly meant it. He would marry her to make a family for Walin and because they desired each other. It was a lot, more than too many wives ever had, but it was not enough.

“And will ye be faithful?”

Tormand tried not to look or act as offended as he was by that question. She knew nothing of the beliefs his family held so dear, of the beliefs he had learned he could not shake free of and no longer wished to.

He had also earned her doubt. His reputation was well earned and she had seen that obscenely long list of his lovers.

“I believe in honoring vows taken,” he said, hoping he did not sound as pompous to her as he did to himself. When she just frowned at him, he asked, “Why dinnae ye believe me? Because of my past?”

“Your past certainly doesnae make a lass feel verra confident in any vow of fidelity that ye make. But, nay, I just wondered why ye are so affronted that I dinnae immediately believe ye. Most men dinnae honor vows of marriage. I suspicion ye can think of a lot of men who speak their vows before God and family and forget them ere the words have left their mouths. Men who would willingly fight to the death over a few slighting words, claiming they need to defend their honor, yet think nothing of breaking vows made to their wives before a priest.”

“I am nay one of those men. Morainn, I am determined to stay right here until we sort this out. I want ye to be my wife, I want ye to help me raise Walin, and I have sworn to be faithful, yet ye still hesitate.

Why? I swear it, I will badger ye all night until I feel certain ye have told me the truth.”

Telling him the truth meant she had to set aside her shield, leave herself open for what could prove to be fatal wounds to her heart. She would be letting this man know exactly how much power he held over her.

And, yet, she could not fight this battle with only half-truths. She had spoken freely of her feelings to her brother whom she had only known for a week. It should not be so hard to speak freely with the man who had shared her bed, the man who would forever be in her heart. And there was always the chance, however small, that speaking her heart would cause him to feel free to speak of his feelings for her, instead of just rambling on about passion and how Walin needed a family. She would be a fool not to take it. In the end, she really had nothing to lose except a little piece of her pride.

“Then I will tell ye the truth. I love you.” She held out her hand to halt his attempt to pull her into his arms, where she knew he could kiss her into agreeing to almost anything, but she was pleased to see that her news had not displeased him or made him uncomfortable. In fact, he looked delighted. “’Tis because I love ye that I say I willnae marry you.”

“That makes no sense.”

“It will if ye let me finish. I love ye and, so, if I wed ye for naught but passion and Walin, I leave myself open for more pain than I care to think about. Ye would have all of my heart, my mind, e’en my soul, but I would have only your passion for as long as it lasted and your sense of responsibility. Ye are a mon who has probably ne’er stayed with a woman e’en as long as ye have stayed with me and I doubt ye were ever faithful to one. Aye, the desire ye feel for me is strong now, but what happens when it fades?

What do ye think it will do to me when ye start to turn to other women to satisfy your needs?

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“It will eat at me, Tormand. It will slowly destroy me and whatever good we might share. And what will I have left in the end but a shattered heart, mayhap a deep bitterness inside of me that darkens my every thought and sharpens my every word. I can see it as clearly as the strongest of my visions. I love ye and I love Walin, but I could end up making us all so verra unhappy.”