Loved By a Warrior (10 page)

“We shouldn't,” she whispered.

“But you liked it,” he murmured.

“As did you.”

“That I did,” he admitted eagerly.

“It's not safe.”

“True enough, for I want to kiss you again and again and again.”

“No,” she said, trying to pull away.

Reeve wouldn't let go of her. “Yes, Tara. We will kiss again. I want it, and you want it.”

“I want you safe,” she pleaded.

“I couldn't be any safer than with you.”

She sighed. “That brings joy and sorrow to my heart, for I would forever keep you safe, but the curse—”

“Is gone,” Reeve insisted.

“We don't know that.”

“I know it,” he said, and brushed his lips over hers.

She wiggled from his grasp, and he let her go. “I fear taking the chance.”

“Nothing bad has happened—”

“It's been only a few days since we met.”

“That's right, and we know not what this is between us,” Reeve said. “Let us give it time and see what happens.”

Her response died on her lips as Mara and Mercy entered the cottage, arms laden with baskets, brooms, and bundles.

“We're here to get you settled,” Mara said.

In no time, Reeve found he was being squeezed out of the cottage as woman after woman arrived to welcome Tara to the clan. He watched as she smiled and greeted each one pleasantly, but he knew that within she struggled and worried that somehow she would hurt these people, who were being so kind to her.

For some strange reason, he had grown to know this woman well in a relatively short time. While he fought against falling in love, he knew he had to pursue this strange connection to her. He had to settle for himself what it was he felt for her.

He gave her a wave and mouthed
later
to her, and she smiled. His heart did a flop, and he left, shaking his head as soon as he was out the door. Her plain features were changed so dramatically when she smiled. It was as if a beautiful woman was trapped inside her and was only released when she smiled. He wondered what else Tara kept trapped inside herself. And damn if he didn't intend to find out.

A
n empty ache suddenly struck Tara as Reeve disappeared out the door. She smiled and responded to all queries from the women who came and went, leaving small welcoming gifts for her. But her thoughts remained on Reeve and the kiss.

She struggled with how much she had enjoyed it and how much she wished to kiss him again. She tried to convince herself that it had been so long since she had been kissed that she would have reacted as she had to anyone who had kissed her.

But that was a lie, and she knew it.

She was attracted to Reeve MacAlpin, and for the first time in far too long, she felt that she could trust a man; and that in itself was appealing.

A tug at her skirt had her looking down, and she was surprised to see a little lad no more than four or five years staring back up at her.

“You're pretty,” he said.

She hunched down in front of him. “Thank you, and what's your name?”

“Rand,” he said with a huge grin, leaned forward, and pecked her on the cheek then ran to hide behind a woman who had two good-sized baskets on her arm.

Tara stood, a smile on her face and a hand to her pecked cheek. She silently prayed that the curse had somehow been lifted and was gone. She didn't want this young lad harmed. She didn't want anyone harmed.

Rand remained glued to the woman's side as she approached Tara. “Welcome. These are for you.” She handed Tara the two beautifully crafted baskets. “I'm Cora the basket weaver if you have need of more.”

“Thank you, Cora,” Tara said. “And this is your son?” She gave a peek at Rand.

“Yes, Rand is my youngest, and I have a daughter, eleven years now and—”She patted her flat stomach. “I've just learned I'm with child again.”

“How wonderful,” Tara said. “I wish you all the best.”

“She doesn't need it,” Mara said, joining them. “She has the easiest deliveries I've ever attended. Not a yell or scream, the babe just pops right out.”

“I hope mine pops right out,” Mercy said, walking over to them.

“You're a wee one, so it might take a bit more than a pop,” Mara said frankly. “Now Tara, here, has good birthing hips, wide and firm. She'll probably pop babes out easily.”

Babes and birthing chatter went on around her, all the women joining in. She had always wished for many children. She had attended the birthing of a few women until . . .

She almost sighed aloud. She had been banned from attending any birthing once she was proclaimed a
death bride.
No woman wanted to take the chance of the curse somehow affecting her child. Not that any child whose birth she had attended died. It was fear that had caused her to be banned, and she really couldn't blame them. She would not take such a chance if she were having a child.

With the help of so many women, the cottage began to take shape, and Tara was stunned when Bryce, Duncan, and Reeve arrived with a table and two chairs, a chest and a bed, and not a narrow one, one more suitable for two.

The men were chased out as soon as they finished, Tara not even getting a chance to thank them.

Mercy and Cora dressed her bed while still discussing child birthing. The logs that had been started in the fireplace as soon as Mara had arrived had chased the cold from the cottage, and candles flickered on the table and atop the mantel. Fresh rushes had been spread on the dirt floor before the furniture had arrived, and some of the women were now dropping bunches of dried lavender to the floor to mingle with the rushes and add a pleasant sweetness to the air.

By midafternoon, the cottage was in fine shape, the helpful drifting off one by one until Mara and Mercy were the only ones left.

“I can't believe how generous everyone has been,” Tara said.

“We are a clan, and that makes us family,” Mara said. “And family helps family. We would have it no other way.”

Mercy squeezed Tara's arm. “Isn't it wonderful? It took time for me to get used to how friendly and willing everyone was to help. Now it just seems natural.”

“You should rest that ankle,” Mara instructed. “You haven't kept off it enough today.”

“I couldn't let everyone do the work for me,” Tara said.

“That was why they came, to help,” Mara said. “Like Mercy said, you'll get used to it. Now rest your ankle. I'll have Reeve bring your personal things.”

Tara didn't think it a good idea that she and Reeve spend time alone, but she didn't object to Mara's suggestion. The truth of it was that she wanted to see Reeve. In the few short hours they had been apart, she realized that she missed him.

She could scold herself for the thought or try to ignore it, but she did neither. Instead, she allowed herself to feel, dangerous though it may be; she allowed herself to feel. She allowed herself to look forward to seeing him, and she allowed herself to look forward to sharing another kiss with him. The strange stirrings in her might warn, but they also urged that the risk was worth it.

Most of all, those stirrings offered her hope, and a flutter of anticipation ran through her as she thanked the two women again and closed the door behind them to wait for Reeve.

Chapter 11

R
eeve didn't waste a minute when his mother told him to take Tara's personal items to her. She also reminded him to make certain he saw to it that Tara got to the keep safely for the evening meal. She needn't have reminded him. He had planned to escort her, though he had plans to linger at her cottage first and share another kiss with her.

All day he hadn't been able to get her off his mind. No matter what it was he was doing, she had intruded on his concentration. He had taken a ribbing from his brothers while hunting. There hadn't been a time he hadn't had a successful hunt . . . until today. His arrow had missed every target.

The worst ribbing he had gotten had been when their mother had sent them to retrieve some furniture from a cottage long empty. There had been two beds, a wide one and a narrow one. He had insisted they take the larger bed.

Right away, Duncan started chuckling, and Bryce naturally joined in.

Soon they were in a heated debate about the beds, though the heat was more on his side, while the two simply laughed and snickered. Their mother's sudden presence brought an abrupt halt to the encounter, and though Reeve still was annoyed, it was at himself.

His brothers had been right. As soon as he had seen the beds, he knew that the narrow one would never do. It wasn't until his brothers' good-natured ribbing started that he realized why he had wanted the larger bed. He wanted enough room
when
he made love to Tara.

Not even
if,
but
when.

Only hours before, he had been trying to convince himself that they were simply friends, and now he's thinking of bedding her.

“Take this along with you,” his mother ordered as she entered the great hall.

She handed him a basket filled with two tankards, a pitcher, and a crock full of dried leaves.

“Tara will be wanting a nice brew to keep the chill out of her,” Mara said. “You could use one too. Now be off with you.”

Reeve hugged his mother. “You are the best.”

Her pink plump cheeks grew even rosier. “Go on with you,” she beamed, and shooed him off.

Reeve knocked though he didn't wait to be invited in but simply entered Tara's cottage as if it were his own. She didn't seem to mind, greeting him with a wide smile. She was quick to stand and offer him help with the items cradled in his arms. Reeve wouldn't have it. He deposited his armful on the table and hurried her back in her seat, noticing she had used an overturned bucket to prop her injured foot on.

“You rest, and I'll fix us a hot brew,” he said.

“That would be nice,” Tara said eagerly.

Reeve got the distinct impression that she wasn't only happy to see him, but she was happy that he wasn't hurrying off, that he'd be staying a while to share a drink.

They chatted endlessly, about everything and anything. Reeve had her laughing about tales of him and his brothers growing up. And she seemed ever so curious about the strange way Duncan and Mercy had met. Reeve explained their plight of having been chained together as prisoners of the king and on the run. And how after endless weeks, they had finally arrived home and had been freed of their chains, though by then their hearts had been bound by love, and the strong link could never be broken.

A yawn stole Tara's smile, and Reeve realized she looked tired. With at least three hours left before supper, he thought it a good idea that she take a nap and rest up.

She seemed reluctant.

“A brief nap will refresh you for the evening meal,” he said.

She looked ready to debate the matter when a yawn attacked once again. She laughed. “My body appears to agree with you.”

A wicked grin surfaced on Reeve's face, which matched his wicked thoughts. He shook his head slowly, silently admonishing himself. “When are you going to realize that I'm always right?”

“That's still to be proven,” she said laughing again.

Tara went to stand, and Reeve quickly was at her side. Once again, he didn't ask permission, but then had he ever? He did what came naturally. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.

“You needn't carry me,” she said. “I can walk.”

“Your ankle needs rest.”

“It feels fine, and it is but a short walk to the bed.”

“That's good.” He hadn't meant to whisper, his response simply came out that way. But then maybe now was the time for whispers and murmurs and stolen kisses and exploring touches.

Rein it in, Reeve,
he silently warned himself.

He sat her on the edge of the bed and knelt down to take her boots off.

“I can do that,” she protested.

“It's no trouble.”

It was more difficult than he had expected though it wasn't the boot that gave him trouble. It was his own rapidly mounting passion as one hand cradled her calf, and the other worked the boot off. Her calf was toned, though not rock-hard, and his fingers itched to stroke the inviting flesh beneath the wool stocking.

He moved his hand to take firmer hold of her leg, and his fingertips brushed along the crevice at the back of her knee. The itch to explore farther up along her leg overwhelmed him, as did thoughts of how silky smooth the inside of her thigh must feel.

Heat built in his loins, and he knew he needed a slap of cold air, frigid cold air.

With the stubborn boot finally off, he easily rid her of the other one and placed them near the hearth. He planned to leave, let her sleep, not bother with a kiss. A kiss was not a good idea now. And then he looked at her, and he saw his heated desire mirrored in her eyes.

“Damn,” he mumbled, and sunk down in front of her, his hands gripping the back of her neck. “I need to kiss you.”

He didn't wait for a response, her deep lavender eyes had told him what he needed to know. She was as eager for his kiss as he was for hers.

Their mouths joined in a dance of passionate hunger. They tasted, melded, and lingered, enjoying the feast that nourished their hearts and souls.

Reeve feared moving his hands from her neck, for if he did, they would surely roam where they should not go . . . at least not yet. In time, though. Definitely in time.

He eased the kiss to an end and rested his cheek on hers, the heat almost scorching his own heated flesh. That they were on the verge of more than a kiss was obvious, and he knew he had to leave.

His hands fell away from her, and he stood quickly. “I must go.”

“Yes,” she urged. “Go.”

“I'll return for you for supper.”

“I'll be waiting . . . outside.”

He almost argued that she should stay in the warmth of the cottage until he returned and then thought better of it.

“Until later,” he said, and turned, hurrying out, not looking back, not wanting to see the passion that had turned her lovely lavender eyes a dark purple and ready to explode with passion.

T
ara was still trying to regain her breath. She had never known a kiss like that. Not even with Rory, whom she had loved beyond reason, had she felt the swell of passion so quickly consume her as she had with Reeve. If Reeve had lingered, she feared she would have surrendered not only to him but to her own carnal need.

She was playing with danger here, a danger that could devastate not merely her but many. She had time to see if things continued on in a good fashion. Time to make certain no one got hurt. Time to make certain no one would come retrieve her. But if she recklessly continued on in such a selfish fashion, it could prove disastrous.

Tara dropped back on the pillow and tucked herself beneath the soft green wool blanket. She hadn't realized how tired she was until her head rested on the pillow, and another yawn escaped. She hadn't slept enough last night, and she had had a busy day. Whatever did she expect?

She would close her eyes for a brief nap and be up and waiting outside when Reeve returned. She would not think of the kiss. Her fingers must not have heard her command, for they drifted to her lips, and she thought she felt them pulse.

Reeve had made her pulse all over. It had trickled through her whole body as he had kissed her. The rhythmic pulse had been like a tingling sensation prickling across every inch of her until her skin had turned to gooseflesh. And she had wanted more, so much more.

Her fingers drifted from her lips down to her nipples, and she gasped when she felt how rigid they were. She was in trouble, terrible trouble, for she not only wanted Reeve to feast on her lips, she wanted his mouth on her . . .

She sighed, shaking her head.
Stop! You cannot do this. You cannot!

She repeated her warning silently over and over and over until she finally drifted off to sleep.

R
eeve approached Tara's cottage with a mix of anticipation and apprehension. Both grew when he saw that she wasn't waiting outside for him. His first thought was that her absence signaled an invitation. She wanted him to come inside, wanted them to continue what they had started.

“Nonsense,” he warned himself, though he hesitated to knock and open the door when he reached it.

He shook his head, clearing his wicked thoughts, and gave a tap before slowly opening the door and calling out her name. “Tara?”

Once inside, the door closed, he realized she hadn't woken yet. He went over to the bed and saw that she slept soundly. She wasn't snoring, though a soft continuous sound emanated from her. She was in a deep sleep, and he couldn't bring himself to wake her.

He tucked the blanket around her and, with disappointment, left her alone.

R
eeve was quiet at supper, which wasn't his way. Usually, he joined right in the chatter and the good-natured teasing, but not tonight. Tonight he couldn't help but watch Duncan and Mercy. They were a perfect match, though Reeve had warned Duncan against falling in love, the four brothers having been raised and trained to place the mission of the true king reclaiming the throne before all else.

But Mercy had understood, had even placed her own life in danger so that Duncan could do what needed to be done. She had not only trusted him, she had trusted their love. Reeve had often wondered if their being shackled together for a length of time had helped them find that love.

“If you won't admit that you're falling in love, at least admit you're pining for the woman,” Duncan teased.

“I'll admit nothing, but I will beat you senseless,” Reeve said with a smug grin.

“Now there's my brother,” Duncan said with a nod. “I thought we had lost him to—”

“Don't dare say it,” Reeve warned.

“Afraid of love?” Bryce asked.

“Are you?” Reeve shot back.

“Deathly afraid.” Bryce chuckled.

“Smart man,” Carmag said.

“I'm not in love,” Reeve said though it sounded hollow to his own ears.

“Time will tell,” Mara said with a motherly pat to his arm.

Reeve rolled his eyes, and begged, “I need a mission. Send me on mission.”

“That's a good idea,” Mara said. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

Reeve didn't know why he had suddenly asked to be sent on a mission. He truly preferred to remain here, but then perhaps that was why he had to go. He had to learn for himself if he had simply grown accustomed to Tara. That she had been right there in front of him day and night, so what had he expected? Not to have noticed her? Or grow attached to her?

“A mission,” he begged once more, wanting his chaotic thoughts gone and wanting his sane self back.

“There's a message that needs to be delivered,” Carmag said. “It should take no more than two or three days.”

“I'll do it,” Reeve said.

“Are you sure?” Carmag asked. “It isn't of grave importance.”

“Doesn't matter. I'll go.”

“Let him go,” Mara said. “Maybe he'll learn something while he's gone.”

“I'll leave at sunrise,” Reeve said, feeling a jolt to his stomach. He had to do this, had to go away if only for a few days. Then why did he suddenly feel like he was deserting Tara?

T
ara woke, and it wasn't until she peeked outside and saw the sunrise on the horizon that she realized she had slept the night away, her ankle wasn't swollen, and she was starving. She quickly gathered snow in a bucket and dumped it in the cauldron hanging in the fireplace to heat, after adding another log.

While the water heated, she put her belongings that Reeve had brought to her the night before, in the chest, though she kept her bone combs. She worked the tangles from her hair, and, with practiced hands, she pinned her ringlets to rest near the top of her head, letting a few fall down the front and back.

She washed her face with the warm water and then slipped on her boots with ease. She grabbed her fur-lined cloak from the peg by the door and walked to the keep.

Tara felt refreshed and looked forward to the day. She hadn't looked forward to a day in such a long time. She planned on going to the keep kitchen and see if the cook would allow her to bake bread. Reeve had liked her black bread, and she wanted to bake him some.

She spotted Reeve before he did her and she stopped, seeing that he was getting ready to mount his horse. Her breath caught, not because he was the handsomest man she had ever seen but because for a moment she believed he belonged to her.

An insane thought and completely improper,
she silently warned herself.

He saw her and stilled, and so she approached.

“You are going somewhere?” she asked apprehensively.

“A mission I must see to.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Three days at the most,” he said.

Her hearted thudded in her chest, and words spilled quickly from her lips. “I will miss you.”

Her heart pounded more wildly when he did not respond and then he reached out, his arm going around her waist to lift and swing her up against him. His lips came down on hers, and he kissed her with such passion that she wanted to cry with joy.