Return of the Rogue (20 page)

She smiled, and he slipped out of her and slowly lowered her to the ground.

“I should never have come to you straight from such a vicious battle. I was heated with rage—”

“And looking for solace,” she finished.

He raised his bloody hand to cup her face and stared at it briefly before turning away. “I am filthy. I had no right to—”

“Love me?”

He turned around, spreading his arms. “How
does a blood-drenched man make love to his wife? I wanted you, like an animal after a female in heat.”

“Was that how it was? You admitted yourself that you knew I’d be waiting here wanting you, ready to love you. You returned to the one person you felt safe with, who you knew would accept you unconditionally.”

“Still, I could have—”

She pressed her fingers to his mouth. “I refuse to hear any more nonsense. I need to get you cleaned and fed and rested, for you have a promise to keep tonight.”

He shook his head, wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

His words excited her heart for they were as close as he’d come to an admission of love. He would have to feel some modicum of love to feel he couldn’t do without her.

She smiled and rested her head on his chest, knowing that he loved her.

“S
omething isn’t right,” Honora said, popping up in bed.

Cavan admired his wife’s naked breasts, her nipples still hard from their recent lovemaking. He smiled and sat up, relaxing against two pillows he shoved behind his back. “You seemed satisfied enough.” He held up his hand and began counting. “How many times did I make you come? One, two, three—”

Honora playfully slapped his hand down. “It has nothing to do with our lovemaking, and the answer is four.” She shook her head.

“Can’t believe it, can you? Don’t worry, I guarantee you’ll get used to multiple climaxes.”

“It has nothing to do with that,” she said, turning to sit crossed-legged beside him, the blanket covering her just below her navel. “And I’d prefer your word on the latter.”

He laughed and reached out to tweak her nipple. “You have my word, and my curiosity. What isn’t right?”

Honora ran her hand through her tousled dark hair and sighed. “Haven’t you noticed it yourself?”

Cavan crossed his arms over his bare chest, enjoying the view. “The only thing I’ve noticed lately is my beautiful naked wife.”

“Pay attention,” she ordered with a smile. “Before your return there wasn’t even the remotest news of Ronan, but since then, possible sightings of Ronan have arrived steadily.”

Cavan almost shook his head, but then gave her suggestion thought and realized she was right. His curiosity aroused, he asked, “What are you thinking?”

“That something is afoot,” she declared on a whisper.

He realized that her caution in lowering her voice even though they were alone meant she thought the problem could possibly come from within the keep. “You murmur. Who don’t you trust?” he asked.

Her voice remained soft. “That’s just it, I’m not sure. It just seems odd that your return brings sudden news of Ronan that has you giving chase but solves nothing.”

He voiced his sudden thought. “A diversion.”

“Which would mean that someone wants you looking elsewhere, but the question is, where are you looking in the first place?”

Cavan wasn’t sure if he should confide in her. He had kept his secret for a reason, but perhaps his wife’s keen perception could be of help. Be
sides, he felt safe with her, and even more so since she had eased his burden without taking offense. She’d dealt with him purely out of love, and her unselfish actions had been his saving grace. Not to mention the times she had slept beside him and offered solace during his nightmare ravished nights.

He took her hand, and when he looked into her violet eyes, saw her love for him was so blatant, so strong, he knew he could trust her with anything. “There is something I haven’t told anyone since my return.”

She laced her fingers with his, and he knew it signaled solidarity between them.

He continued without hesitation. “During my capture I learned an alarming fact. It seems that the barbarian attack had one intention—to capture and kill me. Only once I was captured, it was determined that I might be of more help if kept alive. Worst of all, the plan had been devised with the help of someone from Clan Sinclare.”

“How can you be sure?” Honora asked, stunned.

“The slaves had a way of spreading information among themselves. Anything learned by another was always shared. It was for protection and use if any should make a successful escape.”

“What if the information had been intentionally planted to turn you against your own?”

“The thought crossed my mind, which was one of the reasons I kept it to myself, but more so to protect my family and clan. It was the one time I felt ignorance would shield everyone. If I announced to all
that there was a traitor in the clan, I would unleash fear, doubt, and possibly panic; clansmen accusing clansmen and anger flaring out of control. And of course the culprit could very well be the one who instigated the panic. It was better if I searched for the guilty one myself.”

“But you’ve had no luck?”

Cavan shook his head. “I haven’t been able to find out anything, but with you pointing out the frequent and sudden sightings of Ronan since my return, it makes me think that the person responsible still lurks about and could be planning something.”

“You could confide in your father and brothers and still continue to keep it a secret.”

“Secrets never last when you tell even one person.”

“I will not betray you,” she said adamantly.

He raised their locked hands to kiss the back of hers. “We are one, you and I, and always will be.”

“You trust me,” she said, startled.

“I do,” he admitted, wide-eyed, as if he had just grasped the depth of that trust and what it represented.

Love.

He had thought he loved her, but he truly hadn’t realized the depths of his love. He only knew he didn’t intend to fight it any longer. Voicing it was another matter. He knew there was no reason he couldn’t blurt out his love here and now, and yet the words refused to spill forth.

“I am very pleased to know that you trust me.”

Tell her, you fool. Tell her you love her.

“We will work together to find out who is responsible for this,” she said confidently. “I am good at appearing invisible. It was a skill I acquired when young.”

“To protect yourself from your stepfather?” he asked, suddenly needing to know everything about his wife. Or perhaps searching for a reason to divert his thought away from his inability to voice his love?

“Calum was less likely to anger if he didn’t notice me.”

“Did he anger often?”

“Daily. Neither I nor my mother could do anything to please him. He found fault in the smallest word or action. I realized that fast enough and learned the art of invisibility.”

“How does it work?”

“You must remain silent in word and movement. Sometimes I would hold my breath when I passed by him or creep along in the shadows. It worked—he never noticed me. I became invisible.”

“And the times you weren’t invisible?”

She shrugged. “I would receive a slap across the face, or if he was very angry, a beating with his fists.”

Cavan contained his anger, when what he wanted to do was find the man and beat him senseless. He couldn’t fathom the life his wife had been forced to live, especially since he had grown up in such a loving family. How alone and frightening it must have been for her, an innocent child.

“I learned to duck and dart when he threw things, though he would get mad when he missed so I learned to judge which object would cause the least pain and allow it to hit me. Calum would be satisfied, and the bruises lessened considerably.”

“I should have killed him that day he struck you,” Cavan said with anger. He wanted only to protect his wife from a rotten beast of a man.

“Oh no,” she said, alarmed. “You did much more for me by teaching me to protect myself. Just the other day Calum approached me and I kept my distance, as you taught me to do with a foe. And though I felt a moment of fear in his presence, it soon turned to confidence, knowing I would never allow him to raise his hand against me again.”

Cavan sprang forward, his fingers squeezing an imaginary neck. “If he ever does, I will—”

Honora giggled.

“You laugh at my attempt to protect you?”

She placed a gentle hand over his gnarled fingers and chuckled as she said, “Calum’s neck is too fat to strangle.”

Cavan smirked. “You’re right. My sword would work better and be more thorough.”

Honora kissed his cheek. “Thank you for defending me. No one other than my mother ever defended me.”

He slipped his hand around the back of her neck and drew her lips to his mouth. “I will always defend you. I—I—”

She whispered as she brushed his lips with hers, “Love you. I love you.”

He claimed her mouth with a hungry kiss, as if he could not taste enough of her, as if he depended on her breath to feed him, and in no time he laid her on her back and slipped over her to hastily, with a burning need, bury himself deep inside her. And she welcomed him with a similar hungry need and together they lost themselves in making love.

Champion happily bounced alongside Honora as they took their usual morning stroll. Slowly and steadily she was becoming more familiar with everyone in the village. She had decided on beginning the daily ritual about a week ago, shortly after Tavish told her how necessary it was for him to know his clan. If she was to be a good and helpful wife to Cavan, the next laird, then she should know the clan members as well as possible. This way, if her husband asked an opinion on someone, she would be able to respond truthfully. It also gave her a chance to uncover the culprit she and Cavan searched for.

She had no way of expressing the depth of relief she felt when Cavan confided his secret to her. It proved to her, without a doubt, that he loved her. It took a deep trust and an even deeper bond to share such potentially dangerous information. Only love could have driven him to confide in her, a loving trust that left no room for doubt. Her heart filled with joy, her steps were light, and the sun shone more brightly than she had ever seen it.

Honora continued her walk, enjoying the friends
she was making. Never having been allowed friends, it felt good to talk with other women, hear tales of childbirth, raising babies, or admire an herb garden and listen to loving complaints about husbands.

“Wait until you birth one yourself,” Sara said, resting her hand on her large extended belly. “You swear you’ll never go through the pain again, and then—” She laughed and patted her stomach. “Before you know it, you’re having another one.”

Honora thanked Sara for the mix of dried herbs that she said would make a delicious hot brew and walked off with a wave. Champion followed a bit reluctantly since he had enjoyed playing with Sara’s three-year-old son, as had the young lad, who was shedding mountainous tears over the pup’s departure.

But Honora had to move on, her mind chaotic with the thought that she herself might very well be with child. It was too soon to tell, of course, but the prospect delighted her. Having been a lone child, she’d always hoped for a large brood of children. When she was to marry Artair, he had made it known to her that he wished children, but then she found herself wed to Cavan and wondered what he felt about it.

She chuckled, wondering no more. At the rate they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, she would be with child more times than she wasn’t. Life was suddenly very good.

Even with a culprit in their mix she was certain they would soon detect the man and that he would
suffer his just reward. But for the moment she wished to merely bask in the thought of growing large with Cavan’s child. He would make a good father and she would make a good mother, for her mother had taught her the qualities and virtues of being one.

“Daydreaming when you should be tending your husband,” Calum accosted.

Honora stopped abruptly and realized Champion had been barking, attempting to alert her to Calum’s approach. She silently chastised herself for not being attentive to her surroundings, since she stood much too close to her stepfather, making her more accessible to his quick hands.

“I tend my husband well enough,” she informed him, and took a casual step away. He quickly bridged the distance and stood nearly face-to-face with her.

“Well enough isn’t good enough. Cavan will be the next laird of the Clan Sinclare, and you would do well to remember that and treat him as such.”

Honora stepped away from him again, needing to put distance between them, sensing his mounting anger and fearing his hand was sure to strike at any moment. She wished to tell him that none of this was his concern, but knew that would enflame him all the more, which could prove a serious problem for her.

He raised a pointed finger at her. “You better listen to me, daughter or—”

“Or what!”

Relief rippled through Honora, and she smiled, looking at her husband. He was so tall and broad
and imposing, his arms crossed over his full chest, dark eyes narrowed and square chin raised defiantly. She walked over to him, Champion having already trotted over to stand beside Cavan, with a growling snarl directed at Calum. The pup’s bravery, had grown considerably with Cavan’s presence, she noted with amusement.

Calum fumbled his words and sputtered a few times before finally answering. “I only wish for her to serve you well.”

“Honora concerns you no more,” Cavan said curtly.

It pleased Honora when he took her hand and clasped it firmly. It seemed he was silently informed her that he was there now and there was nothing to fear. He would protect her.

“She is my daughter—”

“She is
my wife
.”

Cavan announced it with such firm vigor that Honora wasn’t surprised to see Calum shiver uncomfortably. She had even felt a rush of ripples wash over her, but for an entirely different reason. She wasn’t intimidated by his forceful reproach; rather, she was excited that he felt so strongly about her being his wife.

“I meant no disrespect,” Calum said apologetically.

“Then apologize to my wife for being so rude to her.”

Calum’s eyes near bulged from their sockets and red splotches stained his full cheeks. Her stepfather had never ever apologized to her. She had always been the one at fault, the one who deserved punish
ment, the one available for him to berate, and she could see in his raging eyes that it remained so; he blamed her for this.

Her body grew rigid, until it seemed she had turned to stone. But she was aware of Cavan’s strong hand squeezing hers firmly, and she allowed herself to relax, knowing that with her husband beside her, Calum could do her no harm.

“Now!” Cavan shouted.

Calum jumped and uttered a barely audible reply.

“I didn’t hear you, Calum. Do you hear him, Honora?” Cavan asked, never taking his heated glare off the man.

“No,” she said, speaking up strongly. “No, I didn’t hear what he had to say.”

Calum pierced her with such an angry scowl that she almost felt as if he’d slapped her, but she remained standing firm and confident.

“Say it so we can hear it and know you mean it,” Cavan demanded.