Love Me Forever (4 page)

Brianna listened to his soft yet strong
voice, which soothed her, and she did as he instructed; though when
his hand spread her legs and slipped close to the warmth between
them, she stiffened and caused herself pain.

He thought he had caused her pain, and he
attempted to rectify his mistake by gently stroking the bruised
area, which ran completely around to the back of her thigh just
beneath her backside.

“I am sorry,” he said softly and continued
stroking her.

Surprisingly, she found herself relaxing and
all her worries fading until her eyes drifted shut and she thought
of nothing but his tender touch.

He did not wish to disturb her, she looked
so content, but he did need to turn her on her side so he could
take a look at her back. And he needed to stop stroking her for the
sake his own sanity.

“I need to turn you,” he said a bit more
sharply than he intended.

She seemed not to notice and simply nodded
her approval.

He slipped his arm to rest between her full
breasts, and with his one hand on her shoulder for support he eased
her over on her side with his other hand.

She winced and her delicate hand grabbed
hold of his arm, giving it a squeeze.

“I will hurry,” he said and saw that her
back held fewer bruises than the front of her. A touch here and
there told him what he needed to know. He then carefully eased her
over on her back and covered her with the warm wool blanket.

Her sigh was deep and she shivered.

He tucked the blanket around her. “Are you
comfortable?”

“Aye, and tired.” She yawned.

“Sleep.”

His word sounded like a whispered command,
and she smiled, her eyes drifting shut. He was a warrior but a
gentle one. How very strange.

Royce watched a smile light her face and he
thought her the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes
upon.

Sleep claimed her as soon as her eyes
closed, and her body relaxed beneath the blanket

She had been uncomfortable being naked in
front of him and why not? He was a stranger, and how did she know
if she could trust him? But she had handled herself well and had
hid her fear and doubt, demonstrating a false courage, which took
bravery.

He wondered over her husband. Had she loved
him and favored his touch or had it been an arranged marriage that
brought her no happiness? The sound of disappointment in her voice
when she had mentioned her husband left him curious. He wished to
learn all he could about her, though that thought struck him as
odd. He had never bothered to learn much about the women he had
known.

He had cared only for the battles he fought
and won, and they had been endless, one after another. And he had
always been victorious. He had lived for those battles, ached for
them. He raised his hand to carefully touch the scar on his
face.

Now he would always have a reminder of his
victory, though he no longer ached for the battles. He shook his
head, chasing away the bitter memory.

Brianna sighed and winced in her sleep, and
Royce instantly soothed her with a gentle hand to her face. She
calmed with his familiar touch. In her sleep she seemed to respond
to him without hesitation or fear.

She sighed and turned her face into his
hand, as if she needed the comfort of his touch. He rubbed her
cheek and her slender neck with the back of his hand in a soft
steady rhythm, and she once again settled into a contented
slumber.

He stared at her long and hard, lingering on
her delicate features. Her lashes were long, dark, and curled
perfectly over her eyes and against her creamy pale skin.

He shook his head. Lord, but she was
beautiful. The thought struck like lightning. He had been sent an
angel. Was she here to save his soul from the fires of hell? Was
she to rescue him from the depths of despair?

He laughed silently inside himself. How
could she help save him when she could not help save herself? She
was presently vulnerable, forced to completely rely on him for her
every need.

Yet she did so with courage and strength. He
saw the spark of fear that lighted in her eyes every now and again,
and yet she faced that fear and conquered it each and every time.
She shed not a single tear for herself but for the pain she bore
bravely.

He had admired different women in his life,
his grandmother in particular. She had raised him upon his mother’s
death when he was but five years. She had been loving and strong
and had instilled within him the necessities of survival, and he
would forever be grateful to her for the many lessons she had
taught him.

She could give him a hug as quickly as she
could give him a slap for not paying attention. She taught him that
awareness was everything in life and without it he would be as
blind as most. And she had been right; that awareness had kept him
sharp in battle and when dealing with friends and enemies
alike.

She had been his strength until she had
forced him to face his own strength. She was a remarkable woman,
and he missed her every day since her passing two years ago.

But she had whispered prophetic words to him
before she died. She had told him that a woman of courage and
tenderness would enter his life when he needed her the most and
that she would give him one daughter and four sons. She would teach
him what it meant to truly love, and his warrior skills would be
necessary to keep her from harm.

They would live to an old age and he would
die in her arms, she following two days after him, for their love
was too strong for even death to separate them. His grandmother had
never been wrong in anything she had predicted for him or the clan,
and he has always paid heed to her advice.

Now he wondered if Brianna was this woman.
She fascinated him, though he could not say why. He wanted time
with her, time to know her and time to understand her. He would
care for her as long as necessary; he, after all, needed to heal as
well, not only his physical scars but the ones that festered within
him.

They would help each other, as strange as
that may seem, and he looked forward to the healing. He needed it;
he yearned for it.

She whimpered in her sleep, and without
thought to his actions he stretched out beside her and gently took
her in his arms. She went without protest, snuggling against him as
though he could protect her from the pain, and he wrapped strong
yet tender arms around her and settled her snugly in his
embrace.

He felt the emptiness inside him that had
seemed to forever linger fade away and be replaced by a gentle
acceptance, as if he had finally arrived home, as if he was welcome
and could remain as long as he wished here in her loving
tenderness.

He slept knowing that he protected her and
that an angel protected him.

Royce watched her sleep. Sleep was what she
mostly did these past two days. She would wake and talk with him
for a short while and then drift off to sleep once again. It amazed
him how often she would smile at him when her eyes slowly opened to
find him beside her, and at times she would drift immediately back
to sleep, as if she had opened her eyes only to make certain he was
nearby.

That they had established a trust between
them was obvious, but it extended only so far, and he realized the
wisdom of her ways. He was after all a stranger, and she was
vulnerable in her weakened condition. He had made certain to treat
her with gently hands and with respect, never once touching her
intimately, though it was difficult. After all he was a man.

A man who needed to heal.

Brianna stirred in her sleep and he moved
swiftly to her side from where he sat near the table. He adjusted
the wool blanket around her and then ran a soothing hand over her
forehead. He had worried about a fever setting in, though she had
no open wounds, and usually festering wounds drew a fever. While
bruises were painful, they were not always life-threatening, though
he had seen men die from a single bruise.

He sat on the bed beside her and ran his
hand along the side of her face.

She sighed and snuggled her face against his
touch.

He had gone and retrieved her satchel from
the overturned coach, and he had searched for the healing basket
she had mentioned, but he could not find it. He had thought she
would feel more comfortable in her night shift, but the movement
required to slip into it had proven too painful for her, so she
remained naked beneath the blanket.

Questions haunted him, questions he wished
to ask of her, yet he knew now was not the time. He had come to
realize that while she may have been married, she was not
comfortable with a man’s touch, which led him to believe that her
marriage had not been a loving one.

He did wonder who now watched over her, for
she had two clansmen with her on her journey, a sure sign that
someone offered her protection. Who was it? And was he now
searching for her?

She had offered no information on her clan,
but then he could not fault her for that, for the Highland clans
were forever at odds with each other, one minute calling one a
friend, the next minute a foe.

He had time to discover more about her even
if someone was out searching for her. The cottage was tucked away
deep in the woods with no direct path leading to it. And it seemed
that Mother Nature herself wished Brianna to remain with him, for a
light snow had started in the late morning and turned heavier as
the hours passed. It was near to nightfall now and several inches
covered the ground, concealing their footsteps and preventing
anyone from finding them.

They were hidden from the world for a while
and he liked the idea. Brianna needed time to heal from her wounds,
as did he.

He watched her eyes drift slowly open, and
her soft, faint smile forced him to smile, as best he could, in
return.

“I feel chilled.” She shivered and attempted
to burrow further beneath the covers.

Royce silently cursed himself. He had gone
hunting earlier and had left his heavier tunic on when he returned,
being in a hurry to clean the fat rabbit and prepare a stew for
supper. He had felt she needed more solid food than just broth. He
had not realized he had allowed the fire to burn low until he
placed the iron pot in the hearth. He had added more logs
immediately, but the logs were damp and taking time to flame. He
had since moved a stack of logs inside knowing that if the
snowstorm continued a blazing fire would be essential to their
comfort.

He retrieved another wool blanket from the
chest at the end of the bed and placed it over Brianna. “We can try
again to dress you in your night shift. You would be much
warmer.”

She seemed to give his suggestion careful
thought, and then slowly shook her head. “I know I must sound a
coward, but it is just too painful,” —she paused, taking a light
breath— “perhaps in another day or two.”

“A coward you are not.” He sounded as if he
scolded.

He wanted her to realize her own bravery. It
took courage to bear pain and to trust a stranger to help.

She paid no mind to his gentle scolding, her
smile growing stronger. “My brother tells me that I am stubborn; my
sister-in-law tells me I am determined.”

“I like your sister-in-law.” His own smile
grew slowly along with hers.

“She is a woman I much admire.”

Brianna sniffed the air. “Is that rabbit
stew I smell?”

“Hungry?” He had hoped her appetite would
improve, and while he knew she probably could not stomach much, it
was necessary to her healing that she eats more. She needed to
regain her strength, for she remained weak, unable to do for
herself and he knew that it upset her to be vulnerable.

“Aye, I am. I think perhaps I could even
feed myself this time.”

She seemed determined, but he thought of how
slight movements left her in pain. A few of her bruises had
worsened, and two new ones had slowly made themselves known. Her
recovery would take time and patience.

“We will see.”

Before he could stand, her hand slowly crept
from beneath the covers to touch his arm. “Really, I feel
stronger.”

He held his hand to hers. “Squeeze one of my
fingers.”

She looked ready and confident to prove her
point, and she grasped his one finger. Her eyes instantly clamped
tight from the stab of pain that shot through her, and she felt
herself grow faint. His name was but a mere whisper on her
trembling lips. “Royce.”

He cursed beneath his breath for foolishly
offering her a choice. His hand closed gently around hers, and his
other hand softly stroked her face while he soothed her with tender
encouraging words.

“The pain will pass. Relax and think only of
my touch.” His voice softened to a whisper. “Your skin is so smooth
and warm, and it blushes when I touch it.”

Her eyes remained closed, but a faint smile
touched her lips. “I am not accustomed to such a gentle and caring
touch from a man. And you are a caring man, Royce… for a
warrior.”

He did not wish to reveal himself to her,
but he did wish to keep her talking and thinking about anything but
her pain. “My scars betray me?”

“Not only the scars.”

“What, then, besides the scars?”

“The sheer size of you, the thick, hard
muscles in your arms and chest, the confidence with which you carry
yourself and the pain within your eyes.”

He was impressed with her observations. Not
many bothered to look and actually see the truth of a person. As a
warrior, he had learned the skill of observation at a young age and
used it to his advantage. He had, however, never met anyone who
could do the same until Brianna.

“Battle must leave heavy scars on the soul.”
Her eyes opened slowly and she looked at him, waiting for a
reply.