Loved By a Warrior (3 page)

Tara hadn't expected Reeve to respond, so she was surprised when he asked, “What about your father? What did he do?”

“He didn't object to my actions.”

“Why not?”

He sounded affronted, and Tara was quick to explain. “There was no reason. I settled the problem for him.”

“No,
” he said. “He should have defended you.”

“It would have done little good,” she said, pleased that he once again thought to protect her, even from her own father. “Not soon after I kept my distance from the cook, she met a man and married him. So you see the whole thing proved true.”

“Nonsense. Regardless, whether you had kept your distance or not, she would have met the man.

“You're not superstitious, are you?”

“Superstition is just plain fear that breeds more fear,” he said. “Your father is duty-bound to protect you, and that duty comes before curses, hexes, or the like.”

His brief tirade startled her. “You truly are an honorable man.”

“A man has nothing if he has no honor.”

“You will make a fine husband and father one day, or are you already?” she asked, thinking how lucky the woman who was, or would be, his wife.

Reeve shook his head. “I have no time for such distraction. When I am free of present responsibilities, then I will find a good woman to love, wed her, and sire a gaggle of children, who I will raise with honor just as I have been.”

“You have many siblings?” she asked, recalling she had wanted the same, a good man to love and wed and to raise many children. That was the hardest part of this whole ordeal, realizing that she would never have children.

“I have three brothers, and though they are not by blood, they are my brothers nonetheless. We were all raised by Trey's parents. He and I are of the same age, six-and-twenty years, while Duncan and Bryce are one year older. We are family. There is nothing I would not do for them or them for me. And what siblings have you?”

“I have none,” she said, though she did have three half brothers. They were simply not worth mentioning. They cared little for her and mocked her as much as others did, so she did not think of them as family. They certainly never defended her; they more tormented her when she was young.

“And what of your mother?”

“She passed on before I took my first step. I barely remember her.”

“I recall little of my own mother,” Reeve admitted, a bit of sadness in his voice.

The more she spoke to this man, the more she felt a kinship to him, which was why it would have been wise for them to remain strangers, knowing nothing of each other. For the little she had learned had her wishing she could be friends with him. Unfortunately, she couldn't take the chance. She would not be the cause of another man dying.

She hoped this storm would not hinder their journey. She needed to find a cottage where she could live out the rest of her days alone.

Reeve added more logs to the steadily burning fire and stepped outside, returning several minutes later, shaking off a good coating of snow.

“The snow has worsened,” he said, returning his extra plaid to hang on the end of the mantel.

The news upset Tara though she kept her worries to herself. She feared sharing such confined quarters with him, especially for a prolonged period of time. Reeve did not understand the dire consequences of such action. And she wasn't sure she could explain it so that it made sense, for it certainly had never made sense to her.

The only thing she was certain of was that the curse was real, and if she wasn't careful, Reeve would die.

Chapter 3

R
eeve watched Tara sleep, her fur-lined cloak wrapped around her curled-up body. She reminded him of the cats around the keep, the way they would curl tightly into a ball while they slept. But unlike the cats who curled next to each other for warmth, Tara lay alone.

He could not imagine never being touched. Whether it was a brotherly hug, his mother's comforting touch, or even her occasional teasing smack, he knew he was loved. And he could not imagine never being able to hold a woman in his arms, kiss her, or be kissed. And he certainly could not fathom never coupling with a woman ever again.

He looked forward to the day that he would fall in love, like his brother Duncan had. They were inseparable, and that was how he would be with the woman he loved. He would crawl in bed with her every night, and whether they made love or not, he would hold her in his arms and protect her always.

Reeve wondered over the origin of the curse that had dubbed Tara the death bride. Was it a series of unfortunate circumstances? Or gossiping tongues that turned unfortunate events into a woman being cursed?

He intended to find out more about her. Why? He couldn't precisely say. He didn't feel sorry for her. She had courage enough to seek freedom for herself with the help of a stranger. And she had the strength to keep her distance from him for fear of causing him harm even if it had meant getting lost in a snowstorm.

She had fought his embrace as soon as he had her in his arms. And when she had calmed, and he had been able to tuck her more snugly against him, he found she fit, as if she had been made for him.

It had been an odd feeling. One he had never experienced before. That a flare of desire had risen up in him he couldn't deny, but it had been more than that though he couldn't exactly explain it. It had been much too strange a sensation, one that overwhelmed, grabbed at him, rattled him, and excited him.

Could he be treading a dangerous path? He presently had no time to pursue a woman, which was why he satisfied himself with willing women now and again. And he certainly had known noblewomen quite intimately. They had pursued him more vigorously than the peasant women he had known. But it had all been nothing more than a satisfying of needs. There had been no love involved, nor had it ever been implied.

Reeve yawned and stretched himself away from where he sat near the hearth. He continued stretching as he stood; his arms near touching the thatched ceiling. He hadn't realized he had groaned along with his mighty stretch until he looked down and saw Tara's eyes open wide with fear.

He fell to his knees beside her. “It's all right. I was just having a stretch, that's all.”

She shrunk away from him, pulling her cloak more tightly around her, and with a bit of a tremble to her voice, she said, “I thought you a demon rising from the depths of hell.”

Reeve smiled. “Now that is what I want my enemies to believe of me, but you are not my enemy. You are a friend, and a demon always protects his friends.”

He was pleased when she giggled.

“You are no demon. You are a good man.”

“Shhh,” he said with a finger to his lips and a quick glance around the room. “That's a secret best kept between you and me.”

“I will keep your secret,” she whispered.

His smile faded, and he so badly wanted to reach out and touch her, just a gentle friendly touch to let her know someone cared. But he knew she would not receive it well, so he tried to do the same with words.

“And I will keep any secret you, my friend, wish to share,” he said.

When a glint of a tear appeared in the corner of her eye, he wanted to take hold of her and cradle her in his arms. But again he knew it was not a wise thing to do.

“Thank you,” she said in a bare whisper.

She closed her eyes after that, and he wrapped his extra plaid around himself and settled a few feet behind her on the floor to sleep. As tired as he was, sleep eluded him for too long, his mind rushing with chaotic thoughts.

He had decided at the onset that he would take Tara home with him. She needed a place where people would treat her kindly, and he believed his village would accept her, curse and all. But after hearing her story about the cook, he wondered if her presence would cause problems. Wagging tongues could do a rash of harm, and if anyone knew . . .

Why did anyone have to know?

The question rang loudly through his thoughts. No one need know her history. He need only tell them that he had rescued her from robbers, and she in turn asked for his help. He could concoct a good tale that would have the village wanting to protect her. And perhaps with the curse ignored and fear expelled, Tara would be able to have friends and perhaps find love.

Of course, he would have to be a good man. One who would protect her and treat her well, and Reeve would make certain of it. He wouldn't let just any man trail after Tara. After all, he was the one who found her and helped her. It was his duty now to see her safe.

With that satisfying thought in mind, Reeve finally fell asleep.

R
eeve wiggled his nose, trying to get whatever caused the pesky tickle off. Though he had to admit there was a nice scent to it, sweet with a touch of pine. He slowly opened his eyes and as he did he saw another pair of eyes opening as well.

Both pairs of eyes shot wide open, and Reeve realized that he and Tara had rolled toward each other sometime in the night, and he had wrapped himself around her. She, in turn, had snuggled into his arms, and there they rested, nose to nose.

When she had finally realized the same, she scrambled to get away from him, but her cloak and his plaid had become entwined, and there was no getting out of it.

“We can't be this close,” she pleaded.

“I have not died yet,” he said with a teasing laugh.

“It is not funny. You are in danger being this close to me.”

“Why? If you help me to understand where the danger comes from, perhaps I can help you.”

“You can't help,” she said adamantly. “Why can't you just believe me and let it be?”

“Because it makes no sense,” he said, realizing that when she had struggled to free herself, she had inadvertently forced her body closer against his, and she fit snugly against his suddenly growing mound. “You're right; this isn't a good time for this discussion.”

He hoped she didn't feel him springing to life against her, and so he hurried to untangle them. She helped. Their hands and arms wound around each other as they tried desperately to disengage themselves.

When it was done, they rushed to separate, each taking a deep breath of relief when finally apart.

“I'll see if the snow stopped,” Reeve said, needing a shot of brisk, cold air right now.

He took an even deeper breath once outside. He was relieved to see that the snow must have stopped early in the night, only a few inches having covered the ground. They could continue their journey home.

He entered the cottage, glad that the cold air had tamed his desire and pleased that they could be on their way.

“Can we leave?” she asked with concern, before he had a chance to speak.

He nodded and smiled. “Only a few inches, though there are drifts. We can leave now, or I can hunt, and we can eat then—”

“I'm not hungry,” she said, interrupting him. “Perhaps later, unless, of course, you're hungry?”

“I can wait,” he said, preferring to get started as well.

Reeve saw to putting out the fire while Tara gathered her things and once more hung her bundle on her back. They were on the road again in no time.

There wasn't much chance for chatter, focus was essential. There was no telling what was hiding beneath the fallen snow. More than once, Tara almost fell from her boots catching on a hidden rock or fallen branch.

Reeve had been quick to grab her arm and steady her. She didn't object, but then there was no need for him to wrap her in his arms as he had done in the snowstorm. And he thought what a shame. He actually wouldn't mind holding her again.

Where had that thought come from?

Sure, she had felt good in his arms.
Damn good.

He shook his head. He didn't need to be thinking about this.

“Something wrong?” she asked from behind him.

“Nothing,” he said, not turning around.

“You shook your head.”

“Clearing it,” he said truthfully.

Silence followed, and Reeve thought the matter settled until. . .

“Are you having second thoughts about helping me?'

He stopped abruptly and turned around, causing her to come to a similar abrupt stop though nearly on top of him.

“That wasn't a thought in my head,” he answered honestly.

“Then what troubled you?”

“Too many thoughts.”

“I suffer from the same affliction myself,” she said.

“Then you know it takes a good shake to rid yourself of them.”

“A chore I do quite regularly.”

“Good, then we understand each other better than most,” he said, finding more things in common with her and also realizing that her lips were ripe for kissing. Slightly plump and moist, having worried at both with her teeth as they had spoken.

Damn, but he wanted to kiss her, and when she scurried back away from him, he realized that his desire to do just that must have shown in his eyes.

“We'd best keep walking,” she said.

He nodded, turned, and did just that. He silently berated himself for his foolish thought. Whatever had he been thinking? She certainly wouldn't be receptive to a kiss, and what if this myth was true?

Now he truly intended to berate himself. He never believed in foolish nonsense. It was usually ignorant people saying ignorant things that caused problems. He had used his brawn to settle such matters. And it had never failed, people always surrendered to strength.

“Reeve!”

He turned at her scream and lunged for her, grabbing hold of her hand just as she went over the side of an incline, her momentum pulling him along with her. They slid down the steep slope on their stomachs, facing each other, picking up speed as they went. Reeve gripped her hand tightly, letting her know there was no chance of her slipping away from him. She clung just as tightly to him, and for a sheer moment, it felt as if their hands melded together as one.

With a thud, a whack, and a bump, they came to rest at the bottom of the hill. Reeve landed on top of her, their limbs all tangled.

“Are you all right?” he asked before trying to move.

She turned her face, and having no choice, she rested her cheek against his. “I believe so.”

Her skin was silky soft and lightly flushed, and he liked the feel of it pressed to his. “We need to slowly untangle ourselves and make certain there are no severe injuries.”

She gave a brief nod and winced.

“Something pains you?” he asked, concerned.

“My arm is twisted beneath me, and it's beginning to hurt.”

Reeve slowly untangled his one arm from beneath her and eased his legs from around hers before gently moving himself off her to stand and give a stretch. Ascertaining that he had no injuries, he was quick to drop down on his haunches to help her.

She sighed. “With you off me, I feel much better.”

Reeve grabbed at his chest and grinned. “You are the only woman who finds
relief
in me not being on top of her.”

Tara laughed and struggled to sit up. Reeve was quick to help her, his hand slipping behind to rest at her back. Oddly enough, she didn't protest, though Reeve let his hand fall away as soon as he sat her up.

“That is because I am different from all the women you have known,” she said with a wide smile.

When she smiled, her lavender eyes darkened to a sultry purple, and with her cheeks flushed, she was far prettier than Reeve had first believed. And yes, she was right. She was different. He wasn't quite sure how, but she was different.

“Your arm?” he asked, seeing how she cradled it.

“Just sore, nothing more,” she assured him moving it up and down so that he could judge for himself.

He instinctively reached out to help her stand when her eyes opened wide, warning him not to touch. So they were back to that again, and he shook his head. “This will not do.” And with that, his hands went to her waist, and he brought her to her feet in one gentle swing.

His hands remained firm at her waist as he spoke. “There is no way I can keep my hands off you.”

“What?” she asked, startled.

“Not in an intimate sense,” he corrected, and damned if images of him touching her intimately didn't pop into his head. He shook the vivid scenes away before they could do more damage, and explained, “I cannot stop myself from reaching out and helping you when you need it. It's simple instinct. And evidently you wish my help since you called my name when in trouble. So there will be no telling me that I cannot touch you or warning me with that evil eye look. I will be touching you, so get used to it.”

Tara glared at him wide-eyed and wide-mouthed.

Reeve glared right back, folding his arms across his chest.

“You're placing yourself in danger,” she said.

Reeve looked himself up and down. “I look just fine. You, on the other hand,” he said, pointing his finger at her, “have had a couple of close calls, which I”—he thumped his chest—“saved you from. And so far, I am still standing, as you can plainly see. I am not deader than dead. I am alive and well.”

“You are,” she said as though it were a miracle.

“Perhaps the curse is gone,” he suggested.

“I doubt that.”

“Then why am I still alive?”

Tara shook her head. “I don't know, but I fear taking chances with your life.”

“It isn't you taking the chance. It is me. I chose to help you; therefore, whatever happens is my own fault.”