Return of the Rogue (17 page)

C
avan sat in the great hall with a full tankard of ale in front of him, without having downed a bit of the brew in the couple of hours he’d been sitting there. He couldn’t get his response to his wife’s blatant query for him to make love to her out of his mind. But then, he supposed he’d been out of his mind for answering her as he had.

“In time.”

What time? What was he waiting for? And what of her response? She had smiled. Did that mean she was relieved? He had expected her, perhaps wanted her, to be upset. At least that would have proven that she hadn’t offered herself out of duty to fulfill their vows and seal their marriage. She’d continued the conversation as if his rejection meant nothing, had not bothered her in the least.

Where he thought she’d be the one brooding, he was the one now brooding. While Honora? He didn’t even know where she was. She had taken her leave of him as soon as they returned to the keep, and while he was curious, he also was perturbed, though he told himself it made no sense for him
to be annoyed. The whole thing had been his own doing. Right now, at this very moment, he could be in his bedchamber making love with her.

“Had a disagreement with your wife?” Lachlan asked, joining him.

“It’s none of your business and I’m not in the mood for company,” Cavan snapped.

“Neither am I.” Lachlan poured himself a tankard of ale.

“You look like shit,” Cavan said, glancing over his disheveled brother.

“I spent the night with an insatiable woman.” Lachlan downed a good portion of ale.

“Drink or sex?” Cavan grinned.

Lachlan raised his glass. “Both, and I pleased her over and over and over and over…”

Cavan laughed. “All night long?”

“She didn’t even take a breather, except to down another ale,” Lachlan said with a weary shake of his head. “I’m telling you, I’m thinking more and more of finding a good woman and settling down. At least then I’ll have a woman to warm my bed and me every night, like you have with your wife.”

Like he should have, Cavan thought. “You always bragged about not settling with just one woman,” he reminded his brother.

“That’s when I was young.”

Cavan laughed. “I forget you are an old man of twenty and three years.”

“Laugh if you like but I am
feeling
older of late.”

“By this evening you will be eyeing the lasses once again,” Cavan assured him.

Lachlan shook his head, though stilled it fast enough and rested it carefully in his hands, his elbows braced on the table for added support. “If I live that long.”

“Another night of debauchery?” Artair asked, climbing over the bench to sit beside Cavan.

“His last, or so he claims,” Cavan said, his grin huge.

“How many times has it been his last?” Artair asked with a jab of his elbow at Cavan.

Cavan chortled. “Not his first and definitely not his last time.”

“The hell with you both,” Lachlan chimed.

“You tell them, Lachlan.”

The three men were startled to see Honora sweep past them with a wide smile.

“I must be in a bad way. I never heard her approach,” Lachlan said.

“Don’t feel bad, neither did I,” Artair admitted.

“Add me to that as well,” Cavan said, and grew perturbed that she could approach him and his brothers without detection. Or was it that they hadn’t been paying attention? Or perhaps he was agitated that Honora appeared happy, content, and set on a destination? She simply had glided into the hall and then slipped right out. She hadn’t even acknowledged him.

“I hope I find a woman who looks at me the way Honora does at you,” Lachlan said.

Cavan was about to ask his brother what he meant when Artair spoke.

“That’s because Cavan knows how to satisfy a woman, and a satisfied wife is a happy wife.”

Lachlan took offense. “What do you think I was doing last night?”

“If it took you all night, then you must not have been doing it right,” Artair accused with a laugh.

Lachlan spat an oath at Artair, downed his ale, and refilled his tankard. “Like you know how to satisfy a woman?”

Cavan paid little heed to the stinging barbs his brothers flung at each other. He was too intent on what Lachlan had seen and what Artair had voiced. Did Honora truly appear happy and satisfied?

Lachlan cut into his reverie with a blunt query. “Honora glows. Is she with child?”

Cavan stared at his brother.

Artair slapped him on the back. “If you have to think about it, perhaps you should ask her.”

Cavan nodded and left his brothers to continue their squabble. He knew his wife wasn’t with child, but he wondered why she appeared so happy, especially when he was feeling so miserable. What did she have to be happy about? He intended to have an answer, and headed for the stables, sure that she would be with Champion.

He was surprised when he didn’t find her there, though the pup was glad to see him and the little fellow joined him in the hunt. It took some doing but they finally found Honora with Addie. She had joined his mother in her weekly venture of making her rounds of the ailing in the village. His mother
would offer whatever assistance she could, even if it was merely to sit and listen to what ailed not only the flesh, but the spirit.

When he discovered what Honora was doing, he decided not to disturb her. Besides, he was pleased that she was learning his mother’s ways, for one day he would be laird and she would take over his mother’s duties, and she appeared to anticipate the same and was busy preparing for it.

He watched her from a distance, the pup busy sniffing the air and following the distinct trail to a little boy who was eating a slice of freshly baked honey bread. She did look as if she glowed. Her cheeks were tinged red, her violet eyes sparkled, her lips rosy, and her smile stunning.

Suddenly her eyes widened, her smile grew, and she waved at him. He stared at her, his eyes narrowing, turned abruptly, scooped up the pup and walked away. He hurried to drop the pup at the stable, and without a word to his brothers—who were still at the table in the great hall—he rushed past them to take the staircase two at a time.

He shut the door behind him and leaned against it, closing his eyes tightly, trying hard to chase away the visions that tormented him. He had been enjoying the sight of his beautiful wife when a harsh memory intruded and refused to retreat to the far back of his mind where he kept it locked away.

It had jumped out at him when Honora noticed him, and then, instantly, he had no longer been staring at his wife but at the woman who had caused some of his torture. She was the daughter of Mordrac,
leader of the barbarian tribe, and he’d been caught staring at her, though in truth it was she who was staring at him. He had been whipped mercilessly, and she stood by and watched without a flinch as the fierce lash was delivered to his back.

He had made himself a promise while captured, that not only would he find his brother and bring him home, but he would make those responsible pay, a promise that not only included Mordrac, but his daughter as well.

Cavan dragged himself to the chair by the fireplace and dropped into it. He would have preferred his mind to be filled with thoughts of his wife than with memories of his capture, but the memories were haunts that refused to leave him. And when they took hold, so did the pain. He relived them time and again, and wondered if they would ever go away. Would he ever forget? Would he ever not relive the suffering?

He dropped his head back against the chair and didn’t bother to close his eyes. It would not shut out the visions. They would come whether his eyes were open or shut. They would assault him until he felt drained and once again conquered.

What good was being a warrior if he repeatedly allowed himself to be conquered? What good was his anger if it caused innocent people to suffer? What good was pride if he couldn’t hold his head up?

He stared at the clear vision of the nameless woman he had grown to hate, and gave in to the memories so that they would finally pass…

Until next time.

Honora followed Addie to another cottage, but her thoughts centered on her husband. Something was wrong. She could feel it, and she’d seen it descend on his face in an instant, and it had frightened her…

Frightened her badly.

“Addie,” she said before they reached the next cottage. “I must go. My husband needs me.”

Addie nodded and shooed her away. “Take good care of him.”

“Always,” Honora promised, and hurried off, though she didn’t know why, just that it was necessary. Her feet flew across the earth and the chilled air slapped at her face. His earlier rejection of her offer hadn’t disturbed her,
in time
, as he had said, and she knew it to be the truth. It would happen; they would make love and she would be patient and wait, for she knew their joining was inevitable. But this?

The look that had registered on his face chilled her to the bone, and she knew that patience would not work in this matter. Her husband needed her whether he realized it or not.
He needed her
.

She ran through the hall, not noticing how Artair and Lachlan stared after her nor hearing them joke about how they wouldn’t be seeing either her or Cavan tonight at supper.

Her thoughts were solely on her husband. She didn’t even think of what she would say to him; she only knew she needed to be with him. He couldn’t
be alone; she wouldn’t let him be alone in his torment, not any longer.

She burst into the room, and the look on his face was no longer anguish, but one of pure rage.

“Get out!” he screamed at her.

She slammed the door behind her. “No.”

“Don’t defy me,” he growled angrily.

“Tell me what is wrong,” she insisted, stepping farther into the room.

Cavan sprang out of the chair. “Leave now.”

“Why?”

“Out!” he shouted.

“Answer me,” she demanded with strength, while her legs trembled.

He grabbed hold of her shoulders. “You dare make demands?”

She softened her tone and placed a trembling hand to his cheek. “You don’t need to suffer alone. You have a wife who cares for you.”

The growl started low in his chest and rumbled to a full roar when it spewed from his mouth. With its release, he lifted her off the ground and headed toward the closed door.

He wouldn’t get rid of her that easily. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and whispered in his ear, “I’m falling in love with you.”

He stilled instantly, her feet dangling off the ground while her arms remained firm around his neck.

She caressed his cheek with hers.

“You can’t love me. You barely know me,” he accused.

She pressed her lips near his ear. “I know you better than you think.”

“I don’t want you to know me.”

“Too late,” she murmured, and kissed his cheek, then moved tentatively to his mouth to kiss him ever so lightly.

He groaned and whispered against her mouth. “I am—”

“My husband,” she finished. “Let me help you forget the pain.”

This time he moaned loudly. “I am not fit to—”

“Love me?”

He didn’t answer.

“Love me,” she repeated, not a question this time.

Still he remained silent.

“Love me.” She brushed his lips with hers.

He shook his head, though barely.

“Love me,” she whispered against his lips. “It’s time.”

C
avan felt the familiar heat of passion consume him, only this time her words had ignited his desire. He wondered if he had ever wanted a woman as much as he now wanted his wife. There had been times when any woman would have satisfied him. Not so now. He knew that he’d find no pleasure, no relief, with anyone but Honora.

Why?

He had no answer, or perhaps, like Honora, he was falling in love, but was too stubborn to admit it.

With a groan of resignation, he scooped his wife up in his arms, marched to the bed and placed her down gently. He eased her arms from around his neck, and they slipped away reluctantly.

He tenderly caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers and asked, “Are you certain about this?”

She nodded vigorously and smiled softly.

His own smile spread slowly. “It will be a night you never forget.”

He kissed her while his hand inched slowly
beneath her blouse, tracing his fingers along her midriff until he gently cupped her full breast in his hand. She didn’t startle but, rather, sighed with pleasure he anticipated that would soon see turned to a writhing passion, and he grew hard with the thought.

“We will do well together, wife,” he whispered between kisses.

“That we will, husband,” she agreed.

The rapid pounding at the door tore them apart.

“Cavan, news. Hurry!” Artair called out.

Cavan instantly left Honora’s side, but stopped and turned before he reached the door. “We will finish this tonight, or upon my return if I must leave. Be waiting for me here in bed.”

Honora near screamed in disappointment. Just when she finally had him where she wanted him and was quite enjoying it, her husband was ripped away from her. It wasn’t fair. And if he thought she would remain in bed, not knowing what was going on, then he was a fool.

She scurried out of bed, righted her garments, ran her fingers through her hair and hurried after him. The only one in the hall when she entered was Addie, who stood looking at the closed door as if left in the wake of a stiff wind.

“Where did they go and why?” Honora asked as she approached the stunned woman.

“I am not certain. A warrior arrived with news that sent my husband and his sons off together. That is rare; one usually remains behind to protect the keep.”

“They cannot have gone far,” Honora assured her. “They would never leave the keep vulnerable.”

Neither woman voiced the thought that the news stirring such instant reaction could have something to do with Ronan. Far too often news concerning the youngest Sinclare son had proven false, and their hearts suffered.

Honora kept herself busy with mundane chores, every now and again glancing in the distance to see if the warriors’ approached. Finally, not far from sundown, she headed to the stable to spend some time with Champion in hopes of easing her mind. She was worried about her husband and feared for his safe return.

Calum appeared suddenly out of the shadows, startling her and causing her to stumble. Honora quickly righted herself before her father’s rough grasp could reach her, and she stepped away from him, remembering what her husband had taught her.

Keep a distance between you and your foe.

She waited for him to speak, but then, she had learned to keep silent when in Calum’s presence.

“You may be wife to Cavan,” he said, “but you are still my daughter and will obey me.”

She wanted to remind him that she was never his daughter, but her defiance would only serve to ignite his temper. Let him think what he would, she would protect herself, and no doubt her husband would too.

She stood defiantly silent.

“You best remember that.”

Instead of responding to his remark, she questioned him. “Where have you been, Father?” She almost choked when she called him by that endearment. He wasn’t her father, could never be her father, but he had insisted she respect him, and part of that respect was for her to call him Father.

“My whereabouts don’t concern you,” he said.

Neither does mine, she wished she could say, but held her tongue. She didn’t want to infuriate him, for she would only suffer for her courage.

He pointed a finger at her. “You do as I say.”

Suddenly, Champion came charging out of the stable and went directly for Calum’s feet, yapping and biting and displaying his anger at the man.

Calum made the mistake of kicking the little pup and sending him flying with a horrific cry.

Honora hurried to the pup, scooping him up in her arms. Seeing that he was all right, she placed him on the ground, patted his rump, and ordered him to stay put. She would have turned with a fury on her stepfather but recalled her husband teaching her to never let an enemy know who you cared for. It would then be too easy to use against you, and her heart would break if anything happened to the pup. She would not give Calum that advantage.

She chose silence, which probably appeared to him as if she acquiesced; far from the truth, but Calum didn’t need to know that.

“Remember, always remember,” Calum warned. “You obey me.”

Honora nodded, scooped up Champion and hurried off before he could stop her. It worried her that
he continued to believe he had control over her. She felt as if she’d never be free of him, and Lord how she wanted to be free of her stepfather for good. She wanted to know that she would never set eyes on him, never hear him command her, and never suffer his harsh tongue or strong hand again.

When she was young she had wished him dead, and she’d never stopped wishing it.

She spent the next few hours playing with Champion, and when she left, the pup followed. He was ready to leave his family, she realized, for he had a new one, just like her. Cavan was her family now. Calum was no more, though he truly never had been.

She hurried to the keep, Champion bouncing happily alongside her. In the distance she saw no sign of the warriors. There was only one thing left for her to do—follow her husband’s wishes and return to their bedchamber to wait for him.

Addie was sitting at the table in the great hall, and while Honora wished only to retreat to her bedchamber, she couldn’t leave her alone. She walked over to the table, Champion dutifully following at her heels.

“I never stop worrying,” Addie said after Honora joined her at the table.

Honora reached out to her and they linked hands, while Champion contentedly curled up at her feet.

“Every battle Tavish has ever fought, I have worried that he would not return, and then when my sons were old enough to join him, my worries doubled, tripled. It is a woman’s lot to forever worry.”

The door swung open, slamming against the wall, and in strode the Sinclare men, Tavish in the lead. He was a formidable figure, as were his sons, who followed him, though none looked happy, which could only mean they hadn’t found what they looked for.

Addie immediately went to her husband, and he gripped her in a tight embrace. It was easy to see that the news was not good, for husband and wife clung to each other and tears shone in Addie’s eyes.

Honora hurried to her husband’s side, Champion joining her. She went directly into his arms and he dropped his head next to hers and squeezed her tight. She could feel his defeat and thought it best not to ask, not to speak, just offer him comfort and love.

Without a word they left the great hall, Champion quietly following them, his whimpers growing louder as he struggled to climb the stairs. Cavan stopped, turned, scooped him up and tucked him in the crook of his left arm, Honora in his right arm, and all three continued up the steps.

Champion was set before the fireplace to sleep, and Cavan kept his wife tucked in his arm until they reached the bed.

“We have something to finish,” he said softly. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

“Have you?” she asked.

“No. I want you more than ever.”

“Truly?” she asked.

He took her hand and slipped it beneath his kilt. He was hot, hard, yet silky soft and throbbed like a steady heartbeat.

That life-reassuring rhythm ignited not only her passion, but her feelings, and she spoke from her heart. “I belong only to you, and I want to feel no other but you inside me.”

In response, he swung her up in his arms and had her down on the bed in no time, though then he hesitated, sat beside her on the bed and simply stared at her.

“What troubles you?” she asked thoughtfully, a comforting hand resting at his leg.

“Your beauty.”

She was taken back and didn’t know how to respond.

He smiled and kissed her gently. “Your beauty goes far deeper than simply your features. I’ve often heard talk of beautiful hearts, but never truly had the honor of meeting such a person. Imagine my surprise when I realized I married one.”

Her heart soared along with her smile.

“Right now I ache for you, as you felt for yourself. It is an ache not only born of need, however, but of something much deeper. I have grown to appreciate you in the strangest of ways, one simply being that I feel
safe
knowing you sleep close by.”

“Tonight we will sleep much closer, and I for one will be grateful.”

“Want me in your bed, do you?” he teased.

She grew serious. “I very much want you in my bed—now and always.”

“Don’t intend to let me go?” he asked.

She took tight hold of his hand. “You are mine and I will never let you go. I will always protect and keep you safe.”

Cavan laughed. “It is I who should be reassuring you about that.”

“But I know you will always protect me and keep me safe. I want you to know I will do the same for you. I would give—”

He pressed his fingers to her lips. “Do not say what I think you intend. You will never, ever give your life for me.”

She took hold of his hand and kissed it gently. “You would give your life for me.”

“Of course, but that is different.”

“Why?”

“I am a man, a warrior, it is my duty.”

“And I,” she said, sitting up to press her cheek against his, “love you and would give my life for you.”

She felt his body grow tense and knew his reaction would be to take firm hold of her and command her never to do such a thing. How to stop his predictable response?

Could she be so bold? And before she could lose her courage, she slipped her hand beneath his kilt to first tentatively then gently run her fingers over the length of his hardness. Then finally she gripped him firmly in her hand.

“You do not play fair,” he whispered in her ear.

“A good teacher taught me the art of warfare.”

In seconds his hand slipped beneath her skirt
and his fingers quickly entered her while his thumb caressed her nub, which in no time throbbed madly.

“So we battle?” he teased, nibbling along her ear.

She moaned, laughed softly and murmured, “I surrender.”

He laughed. “No, sweetheart, not yet you haven’t.”

He had them both undressed in minutes, and where Honora once worried about being naked and vulnerable in front of him, she felt no such qualms now that she was unclothed. She wanted him to touch her, kiss her, caress her. She wanted to make love with him.

“You are so very beautiful,” he said between lavishing kisses over her breasts.

She raised her chest up for her breast to meet his lips, and when he took her nipple in his mouth, she moaned with the pleasure he brought her. He played with it, nipped at it, and suckled it until she thought she would go mad, and when he finished he moved to her other breast and did the same.

He continued to lavish kisses all over her body, and the more he did, the more sensitive her flesh became, until he could not touch a part of her without her moaning, arching, twisting, or writhing.

She couldn’t think; she could only respond.

While he rained kisses over her stomach, his fingers worked their magic between her legs, and Lord did she respond. She didn’t want him to stop; she never wanted him to stop. Never had she imagined that making love could feel so miraculous.

“You taste so sweet, so delectable,” he said, slowly making his way down her stomach with kisses.

She almost jolted off the bed when his mouth replaced his fingers, and she thought she’d burst from the pleasurable torment. He tasted her with a mixture of tenderness and firmness until she believed she could bear no more. Then he slipped over her, and she took hold of him once more.

He stopped abruptly and growled deep and low. “Don’t,” he warned. “My need for you is too great.”

She understood, and guided the full throbbing length of him into her as he braced his hands on either side of her and hovered above her.

“You feel so good,” she couldn’t help but say.

He pressed his forehead to hers and groaned.

Honora moved her hand off him as she felt him take command, and he slipped into her, slowly at first, and then as she writhed beneath him, he entered her harder and she arched up. He pushed, and a rhythm was set just before he plunged deep and she gasped, not from the pain but from pure passion.

He pressed his cheek to hers, his breathing rapid, all movement stilled. “Are you all right?”

“No,” she whimpered, then accused. “You stopped.”

He chortled, then warned her, “Hold on.”

She gripped his arms tightly and was soon moaning loudly from the pleasure coursing through her body. Her damp flesh tingled, her body throbbed unmercifully, and she knew that
only he, her husband, could bring her the satisfaction she ached for.

He had been right when he warned her that she hadn’t surrendered yet, though she wanted to and he refused to let her. He teased her, slowing the rhythm just as she thought she would burst, then starting again until she thought she’d go mad.

Until finally she felt his surrender draw near, his rhythm steady, firm, certain, and she knew he would not stop, could not stop, and together they held on, riding harder, stronger, until…

When the explosive release hit her, she thought she would die from the pleasure of it and tightened her grip on Cavan, her writhing far from over until she finally felt spent, but far from empty; she felt full, whole, complete.