The Highlander's Forbidden Bride (16 page)

He smiled. He might not be able to make love to her, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t, if only briefly, hold her. He pulled the blanket over her, a shield against her nakedness and his desire, and stretched out on his side beside her.

R
onan nestled his face in her hair, a hint of lavender teasing his senses as the soft, silky curls tickled his face. He rested his arm across her waist though he kept his hand from touching her, afraid that if his fingers simply brushed her flesh, he would want more. And he did not intend for his raging desire to interfere with the pleasure of holding her close.

She turned around and snuggled up against him as she had done so many times when they were at the cottage. His arms closed around her instinctively. When had he begun to protect her? When had he begun to realize that she belonged in his arms? When had he realized that Carissa was the woman he loved?

“It doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “I love you.”

As if she heard, she rubbed her cheek over his heart, then rested firmly against it. Her simple action made him shiver to his soul, for he felt as if she had claimed him for herself more potently than words.

He should have been wise and left then, but
love appeared to be more foolish than wise, and at the moment he wanted to be more foolish than anything.

Carissa stirred, and her eyes suddenly sprang open.

And he couldn’t, he simply couldn’t, resist a kiss.

Her lips were warm, her taste familiar, and when she responded so willingly, the kiss slipped from his control. Need and yearning took over, and they both surrendered. He struggled to keep his hands to himself, while they itched to touch and explore.

She didn’t help matters, pressing her body firmly against his. He was disappointed though grateful that he could feel only a shadow of her body through the blanket. If he felt any more of her, he’d be sure to surrender to his passion, and she would obviously have trouble not submitting to her own.

He had no choice, he had to end the kiss, but he did so with extreme reluctance. He rested his brow on hers, giving them both time to catch their breaths and, hopefully, still their yearnings.

“We shouldn’t,” she whispered

“We won’t,” he said.

“But I want to,” she admitted breathlessly.

“As do I, but we must wait.”

“Yes, we must wait,” she said sadly. “We must make certain that your brother is assured that I play no game but truly love you.”

Ronan was surprised she didn’t turn away from
him, for her remark had left him feeling guilty that, yet again, he had failed to come to her defense, or was it their defense? Instead, she returned her head to his chest, and he took his leave when once again she fell asleep.

When Carissa woke a short time later, she was hungry, not only for food, but for Ronan. Since only one was possible, she dressed and found her way to the cook area. The servants seemed reluctant and a bit uncertain whether to serve her, and she wasn’t surprised. Gossip among villagers traveled fast, and if the laird had yet to approve of her, then the villagers certainly weren’t going to accept her.

She was relieved when Addie appeared, and though in a hurry, she took a moment to instruct the servants to provide Carissa with whatever food she wished.

Addie’s cheeks glowed red and her green eyes sparkled. After she grabbed a flask of wine and crusty loaf of freshly baked bread, she hurried out. Carissa smiled, knowing that Addie and Hagen were about to rendezvous.

After tasting what was available and finding it not to her liking, actually barely tolerable, she gathered ingredients needed to make a tasty meal, to the bewilderment of the servants, and went to her cottage. If anything, the cooking would keep her thoughts from Ronan.

She cut, chopped, and kneaded, thinking of nothing but the task at hand. Her thoughts had
been occupied of much lately, and she longed for time away from her problems.

She had just set a pan of apple buns on the wooden table to cool when a gentle knock sounded at the door.

Knowing it was senseless to think she could keep anyone out, she bid her guest enter. She was surprised to see that it was Honora.

“It smells heavenly in here,” Honora said, and smiled. “Forgive me, I forget my manners. I should have given you a greeting first.”

“That was the best greeting I have ever received,” Carissa said.

“It’s a truthful one.” Honora sniffed at the cooling apple buns. “If they smell this heavenly, I can only imagine how they taste.”

“Please sit,” Carissa said, pointing to a chair at the table. “I’ll heat some cider for us, and you can have a taste.”

“I certainly won’t turn down that invitation,” Honora said, and sat.

“If you don’t mind, I need to finish this bread while you visit,” Carissa said.

“Please do. I didn’t mean to interrupt, though I never expected to find you cooking.”

“It’s something I enjoy.”

Honora took a bite of the bun Carissa sat in front of her, and her eyes opened wide. Before she took another bite, she said, “And something you do with great talent.”

“Thank you,” Carissa said, “and forgive my bluntness, but why are you here?”

“I’ve experienced your bluntness firsthand,” Honora said.

Carissa nodded. “I remember when my father had you kidnapped and brought you to his stronghold.”

“I remember how coldhearted you appeared,” Honora said. “But what surprised me was when you first arrived here, it was as if I was seeing a different woman, and I began to remember more.”

Carissa continued kneading the bread.

“When food was brought to me, you always accompanied the slave who brought it and the platter was always full, much too full for a prisoner…and the food much too tasty. And you always managed to calm your father’s anger when he spoke with me, or more often redirected it to yourself.”

Carissa shrugged. “Those things mean nothing.”

“My husband would probably agree with you,” Honora admitted. “But there is one more thing that defies reason, as Artair would say. I had prayed and hoped to find a way to escape your father so that he could not use me as a pawn when my husband came to rescue me. I had all but given up, not being able to find any way out of your father’s stronghold, then…”

Carissa remained silent.

“Cavan arrived to lay siege to your father’s land and, while chaos erupted around me, I spied you on your horse taking a path I had never noticed before. It would have only been noticeable to one who knew it was there. I followed you and made
my escape, and to my surprise, a horse waited along the path, which made my escape easier.”

“Why do you tell me this?”

“Because the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it wasn’t luck that helped free me from your father—it was you.”

“No one would ever believe such nonsense,” Carissa said.

“I thought perhaps my husband would.”

“But he didn’t, did he?”

Carissa shook her head. “He recalls only pain when he thinks of you, and yet somehow I wonder about that too.”

“Your husband’s suffering and pain were real when held captive by my father.”

“I have no doubt of that,” Honora said sadly. “But I do wonder if perhaps you helped him, and possibly others, without any of them realizing it.”

Carissa punched the dough and gathered it up and slapped it down on the table. “I am who I am.”

“That’s the problem I have, Carissa,” Honora said softly. “Who are you?”

Carissa never got to answer Honora, who was summoned to the keep by her husband and, for once, Carissa was grateful for Cavan’s interference. Besides, how did she answer the question? She had spent far too many years protecting herself to suddenly begin to trust strangers. And to her, Honora was a stranger.

She sat on the chair she had moved near the
hearth and watched the bread bake. Now that she was done cooking, her thoughts rushed forward, and she wished for a reprieve from them.

The heavens answered when another knock sounded, and this time it was Zia who entered, wearing a huge smile.

“Mind if a visit for a while?” she asked, and pulled a chair near the fire before Carissa could respond.

“I’m glad you’re here. It gives me a chance to thank you for all you’ve done for my men.”

“I know we don’t know each other well, but my grandmother speaks so highly of you that I am pleased finally to have the chance to get to know you myself.”

“Your grandmother is a remarkable woman,” Carissa said. “She helps so many.”

“From what she’s told me, you do the same.”

“I look after my warriors—”

“More than just your warriors” Zia said.

Carissa felt uneasy with compliments. She did what she did because it was the right thing to do. She needed no praise for it.

“Can I offer you a hot brew?” Carissa asked, wanting to change the course of the conversation.

Zia popped up off the chair. “I’ll get it. You rest.” She talked while she worked. “It seems that everyone is wondering about you.”

“What you mean is that gossip has begun to spread, and tongues are wagging wildly,” Carissa said. “I have no doubt villagers are already aware of why judgment against me has been delayed and
that most, if not all, believe I tricked him to couple with me.”

Zia nodded as she handed a mug to Carissa.

“With barely a day since my arrival, I can’t imagine what further time here will bring for me,” Carissa said.

“I find that time can be a friend rather than an enemy, which is another reason I stopped to visit. Can you tell me how long it will be before you know if you are with child?”

“About two weeks,” Carissa answered.

“You are feeling well?” Zia asked.

Their conversation continued about birthing and babes, and Zia regaled her with stories of the Sinclare deliveries and babes and how Carissa would meet the little darlings later at supper. And then she left.

When the door closed, Carissa’s hand went to her stomach. She hadn’t given much thought to being with child. Perhaps it was because she had thought it only a distant dream that would never come true. But now there was a possibility that it might.

She didn’t know what she would do if she was carrying Ronan’s child. However, she did know that it would present problems, one being that Cavan would not pass judgment on her.

The thought disturbed her, for then she would never be free. And the Sinclares would be forced to accept her.

She shook her head. She didn’t want to be forced on anyone, least of all Ronan.

The solution to her dilemma came easily. If she was with child, she would not let anyone know. Then she realized it could possibly cause her another problem. Cavan just might punish her, and that could harm the babe. And what of Ronan? Didn’t he have a right to know that he would be a father?

She stood and paced before the hearth.

It would be so much easier if she wasn’t with child, yet she had so wanted children. And she would probably long for one of her own even more after meeting the Sinclare babes tonight.

She shook her head. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t participate in a family meal with the Sinclares and watch the love and happiness they all shared and know they had yet to accept her.

She didn’t wait for Ronan to come collect her for supper. She notified the guard that she wasn’t feeling well and wouldn’t be taking supper with the Sinclares. He looked ready to remind her that Cavan had ordered her to the meal, so she gave him two apple buns and hot cider, spiced with her own flavorings.

A short time later he knocked on the door and told her he would deliver her message and that he hoped she was feeling better, and by any chance did she have another apple bun to spare?

R
onan got finished tumbling on the floor with his twin nephews and stood, brushing the rushes off the little lads, then himself. Blythe had clapped with glee, and Roark had kept steady eyes on them all.

He couldn’t believe his family had grown so much and in ways he had never imagined but loved nonetheless. He had never given much thought to children, his brothers and he too busy enjoying the pleasures of being young and free. But his ordeal had made him view life much differently.

He had never realized how very important his family was to him. And though he had worried that he would feel estranged from them, they had not changed. It was he who had changed, or at least thought he had. And while he might look at some things differently, he was who he always was—a Sinclare.

“More!”

Ronan laughed at his namesake, who stretched out his tiny arms to him. “Time to eat.” He snatched the little fellow up in his arms and pretended to
chomp at his cheeks. The lad laughed with glee until his mother, Honora, took him, which then had him crying in disappointment.

Ronan grabbed the lad’s chin. “We’ll play again, but first you must eat.”

The lad seemed appeased and went with his mother.

Ronan turned and joined Cavan where he sat alone at the end of the table.

“Ronan loves his uncle Ronan,” Cavan said with a smile.

“What’s not to love?” Ronan teased.

Cavan shook his head and laughed.

“I thought one day there would be children to carry on our name.” Ronan shook his head. “But I can’t believe that day is already here.”

“I look at my sons and think the same,” Cavan said.

“As I do,” Lachlan said, joining them near the hearth.

“Sons?” Artair asked as he approached. “Wait until you have a daughter, then you will know what it is to worry, especially when you recall your own wicked ways.”

Lachlan slapped Artair on the back. “Look on the bright side. Blythe has three male Sinclare cousins to protect her innocence.”

“Knowing her mother’s spirited nature, do you think that consoles me?” Artair asked with a grin.

“It will have to do for now,” Cavan said.

“Truly?” Artair asked. “I wonder if you will feel the same if it is a daughter you have next.”

Cavan cringed, then swore then said, “Daughters obey their fathers.”

His remark was like a punch to Ronan’s gut. Had Carissa obeyed her father whether she liked it or not?

“Will you consider that when you pass judgment on Carissa?” Ronan asked.

“I will consider it all, including how I screamed, then passed out when she threw water on my open wounds after I had been whipped mercilessly,” Cavan said. “And I certainly will remember how she laughed and told me to embrace the darkness.”

“Wise advice,” Zia said, walking over to the table, her daughter reaching her tiny hands out to her father and Artair taking her with a smile and snuggle.

“What do you mean?” Cavan snapped.

“If Carissa told you to embrace the darkness, then she knew you would pass out from her action. It is how you felt when you woke,” Zia said, “that matters the most.”

Cavan looked perplexed.

“How did you feel?” Zia asked. “Were you in pain? Or was your suffering bearable?”

Cavan looked ready to answer, then held his tongue, and his brow crinkled in thought. “I was on my stomach when I woke and someone, a soft, caring voice, ordered me to remain that way. And the pain—” He paused and shook his head. “The pain was minimal.”

“Hope,” Ronan whispered, though not quietly enough.

“Hope?” Cavan reiterated. “Of course I kept hope strong.”

Ronan shook his head. “No. Hope helped you as she helped me.”

“You’re suggesting Carissa helped me?” Cavan asked irritably.

“If you weren’t so stubborn, you might see that it is a strong possibility,” Honora said, returning with one of the twins, who looked as if he wore his food rather than ate it.

“Your namesake is a fussy eater,” Cavan said, ignoring his wife’s accusation.

Ronan leaned down and playfully pinched the lad’s cheek. “I know someone whose food you’d enjoy.”

Honora smiled. “I had one of Carissa’s apple buns. It was delicious.”

“She made apple buns?” Ronan asked. “I need to get some.”

“Carissa won’t be joining us for supper,” Cavan informed him. “She isn’t feeling well.”

Ronan turned on him with a sting of anger. “You just inform me of this now?”

“I only learned of it a short time ago,” Cavan said.

“And you didn’t think to inform me?” Ronan asked annoyed. “Especially knowing she could be with child?”

Zia was already walking to the door. “I’ll see if she’s all right.”

Ronan joined her.

The others stared at Cavan.

“I am laird,” Cavan said.

Honora huffed. “Then act like one.”

Carissa had just taken the cauldron from the hearth to cool. She was looking forward to the rabbit stew that had simmered for hours. The scent was delicious, and her mouth watered for the first bite.

She had managed to calm her thoughts and intended to enjoy a tasty supper and retire early and hopefully meet with Dykar at sunrise to see if Septimus had unearthed anything new about Cregan.

Therefore, her door bursting open was completely unexpected and startling to say the least.

Ronan was at her side when he asked, “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said.

“Are you sure?” Zia asked, having hurried in behind Ronan.

Carissa nodded, still startled by their appearance.

“We were informed you were ill,” Ronan said.

“More tired than anything,” Carissa said, which was the truth. She was simply fatigued by her whole ordeal.

Carissa saw that Ronan surveyed the room, and she knew he’d reach the obvious conclusion.

“You planned to eat alone,” he said.

Zia gasped. “You shouldn’t be alone if you aren’t feeling well.”

Ronan agreed, and before Carissa knew what
was happening, she was hurried to the keep, where Zia, with help from Honora and Alyce, had her tucked at the table with a soft wool blanket wrapped around her.

Ronan had seen to her rabbit stew being brought along with her as well as the fresh bread she had baked and the remainder of the apple buns, to the disappointment of the guards.

She was tucked and snug against Ronan as the Sinclares began to fill their bowls with her stew and share the bread she had made, while the twins happily ate the apple buns.

Carissa listened though she did not partake of the banter among the Sinclares. They were family, and while she sat among them, she still could not claim herself one. But she wished she could. They loved and laughed. They teased and tormented. But always, always, they were family.

She could even see how the Sinclare brothers—all but Ronan—tried hard to accept Hagen. Ronan had no problem with Hagen since he had fought by his side and knew him well. And Ronan trusted that his brothers would discover Hagen’s worth for themselves.

This, she realized, was family. Something she had never known and what she had always hoped for and dreamed of, and yet never found. Now that it was in her reach, she ached to be part of it.

Carissa ate very little and hadn’t realized that Ronan urged her to eat more. She had been too consumed by what went on around her.

“More! More!” the lad Ronan yelled, and his brother Tavish joined in.

“They love your apple buns,” Honora said.

“I do too,” Cavan said, splitting the last one to share with his twin sons.

“I’ll make more tomorrow,” Carissa said.

“Only if you’re feeling well enough,” Ronan insisted.

“Ronan’s right,” Cavan said, “only if you feel up to it.”

Carissa remained silent, the whole night remaining strange to her. Laughter mixed with chatter. Praise for her cooking circled the table, and when Cavan suggested that she share her cooking talent with the cooks, she thought for sure she was in a dream.

But it was when Ronan walked her to the cottage and closed the door behind him and took her in his arms and kissed her that she believed a dream.

“Do you know how much I want to make love to you?’ Ronan asked.

“You can’t,” Carissa said, telling herself it had to be this way. There was no choice. It was for the best.

“Why?”

“Your brother dictated as much,” she said.

“My brother cannot dictate love.”

Carissa managed to regain some of her senses, his kiss having rendered her vulnerable. “But who do you love, Ronan?”

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear before nibbling along it and sending shivers down her spine.

“Who am I?” she asked, surrendering to his hands, which had managed to find their way beneath her garments to tease and tempt.

“The woman I love.”

Carissa groaned when his mouth attacked her neck with nibbles and nips that tormented her beyond belief.

Somewhere reason assaulted her as he continued to taste her. “We can’t do this.”

With a strong arm wrapped securely around her waist, Ronan lifted her against him and carried her along to the bed. “I have let far too many people dictate my future. You are mine. You belong to me. And no one, not even my laird, will tell me that I can’t make love to you.”