Pledged to a Highlander Page 10

  “I’ve heard many tales these past few years, sir. But I can only speak to what I saw with my own eyes,” Bethany said.

  “And what is that?”

  Oria cringed at the harsh command in his voice.

  “I’m afraid not much, sir. As I told you, I don’t know what became of your da,” Bethany said. “When the battle ended the warriors who remained here ordered me to tend to the wounded that were brought to me. I asked about Chieftain Parlan, but was told he’d be brought to me if needed. He was never brought to me and I never saw what happened to him.”

  “Is there anyone here who might know?” Royden asked.

  Bethany thought a moment. “Mildred was tasked with collecting all the weapons off the dead and wounded MacKinnon warriors. She is well aware of those who died, but she never mentioned seeing your da. A troop of warriors were sent out, I assumed to search for Raven, but perhaps they searched for your da as well. I can’t say for sure since the warriors kept tight lips. But then we all kept tight-lipped not wanting to bring harm to anyone who may have escaped.”

  “Thank you, Bethany,” Oria said.

  “I will do anything I can to help reunite the family,” Bethany said.

  “You’ve done more than your share of keeping the Clan MacKinnon together, Bethany. I’m forever in your debt,” Royden said.

  Oria smiled softly hearing the old, strong, yet thoughtful Royden in his voice.

  “I’ll send one of my helpers to fetch Mildred to see if she can be of any help.” Bethany bobbed her head and left.

  Oria could see how frustrated her husband was, his hand roughly rubbing the back of his neck. She hated seeing him suffer when she could easily ease his hurt, but first she had to speak with—

  “Do you think my da could have possibly survived?” Royden asked, interrupting her thought.

  This was a chance to give him some hope and why not use a witch’s words to do it. “If I remember right didn’t the witch tell Raven you all would be reunited?”

  “She did,” he said, a bit of hope heard in his words.

  “She was right about you all being torn apart, so I would think she would be right about you all reuniting.”

  Royden’s brow narrowed. “I know it’s been some time, but I don’t recall telling you what the witch said to Raven.” He shook his head. “Raven told you, didn’t she?”

  Oria nodded. “In the woods one day when she, Purity, and I met. She told me that you would probably tell me, but I didn’t think you would.”

  He looked surprised. “Why?”

  “Did you plan on telling me?”

  “I asked first,” he said, a command in his tone.

  “That answers it for me and as for why? You tried to protect me from everything.”

  “It is my duty to protect the woman I love,” he said his brief explanation enough.

  “Aye, I understand that, but when you’re not there, what do I do?”

  Her question startled him, his brow shooting up.

  “You wished to see me, sir?” Mildred asked.

  He was glad for the interruption since he had no answer for his wife and that disturbed him. What if he wasn’t there to protect her again? He had seen it for himself, the remnants of what happened to women in raids and attacks. It sickened him to see what some men were capable of doing and one thing that he actually admired about Platt was that he had forbidden the men to harm any of the women at places they attacked. They had looted places, stripping villages, but had left the women unharmed.

  “Royden,” Oria said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

  He shook his head. “Sit, Mildred, I wish to talk with you.”

  “I didn’t do anything wrong, sir,” Mildred pleaded, tears glistening in her aged eyes.

  “Of course, you didn’t,” Bethany cajoled, slipping an arm around the woman and leading her to the table nearest the hearth while her helpers placed a jug of ale on the table. Knowing Mildred favored ale, Bethany filled a tankard and placed it in front of her.

  Oria filled a tankard for Royden and nodded for him to take a seat opposite Mildred, sliding along the bench to sit next to him.

  Royden sat and was pleased when his wife moved to rest her arm against his and her leg against his leg as well. It felt good to be sitting close with her again and he found his frustration easing.

  “Bethany tells me you were tasked with collecting the weapons off our dead warriors,” Royden said. “I regret that you had to do such a horrible task.”

  Mildred’s shoulders slumped, the worry draining off her that she had done something wrong. “It wasn’t an easy task, sir, but I was glad for it, since I could treat our fallen warriors with respect as I took their weapons and I could say a prayer for each one of them as I did.”

  “I appreciate how brave you were, Mildred, and how kind and respectful you were to our fallen warriors. Bethany also said you never mentioned seeing my da among the dead.”

  Mildred downed more ale and looked about before leaning over the table closer to Royden and keeping her voice to a whisper, “I thought it best—safest—to say nothing to no one. I feared what might have happened if I did, not only to me and those told about it, but most of all to,”—she lowered her voice even more—“your sister.”

  “Raven? What has Raven to do with my da?”

  “I saw her struggle to drag your da away and then that Macara lass, the one with the claw-like fingers, suddenly appeared and helped her drag your da into the woods. I don’t know what happened to them after that.”

  “Did you see how badly my da was injured?” Royden asked.

  Mildred nodded and wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. “He was bad, sir, blood covering his chest and he not moving as the two lassies dragged him away.” She sniffled back unshed tears as she looked to Oria. “I saw how you fought those men, bit the one, and how he slashed your face, but you didn’t stop fighting when the two men dragged you off to put you in that cart. Blood poured down your neck and covered your clothing, but you kept fighting the two of them. You were a sight to see and it gave me strength. I cried out when I saw that man who slashed you knock you out with one hard blow of his fist, then toss you in the cart. You’re a brave one, Mistress Oria.”

  “No braver than any other who fought that day,” Oria said, having felt the muscles in her husband’s arm grow tighter and tighter as the tale unfolded.

  “Bethany,” Royden called out, having seen the woman lurking in the shadows by the passageway that led to the kitchen.

  Bethany quickly approached the table.

  “See that Mildred has food and drink to take with her,” Royden instructed, keeping a tight rein on his mounting temper.

  “You’re most generous, sir, thank you,” Mildred said and took a last swallow of ale before following Bethany out of the hall.

  Royden stood and said, “My solar.” He didn’t wait for his wife. He walked off, leaving her to follow.

  He entered his solar and went to the hearth pacing in front of it. Though Oria had told him what had happened, hearing it from someone who had witnessed it had enraged him. He fumed with heated anger that was difficult to control. He wanted to pound the man for what he had done to Oria until he couldn’t stand, until he finally laid lifeless in the dirt.

  Oria closed the door behind her and went to Royden.

  His hand reached out, his fingers softly tracing along her scar. “I’m going to find him an—”

  She placed her hand over his. “It’s done, nothing can change that.”

  “I can’t let this stand, Oria. The man who did this to you has to pay for it.” He shook his head when she went to speak. “You waste your words. If it takes me years, I will see this done.”

  In time perhaps she could change that, fearing that his quest for revenge could bring more harm than good. For now, she would follow her heart.

  She raised her lips to his and kissed him. His lips responded to her without hesitation and she was glad she had taken the chance that he
wouldn’t deny her. There was a deep hunger in their kiss that hadn’t been there before. A need so strong that it almost frightened.

  Her arms quickly wrapped around his neck, clinging tight, fearful their kiss would end far too soon. Her fear vanished when his hand cupped the back of her head, holding it firm. He didn’t want her going anywhere.

  His lips were a taste of the old and the new, softness mingling with a powerful strength she hadn’t felt before and it sent a tingle down to her toes and up again, settling between her legs.

  His arm coiled around her waist, the leather cuff pressing into her side as he lifted her enough so that her feet didn’t touch the floor and hurried to brace her against a wall.

  His palm flattened against the wall while his arm continued to hold her firm. His lips left hers, nipping with his lips and teeth down along her neck. Her pleasure erupted in repeated gasps and moans. He hefted her up a bit higher off the floor and pressed himself against her, settling his hard shaft against the apex of her legs.

  She almost screamed aloud when he rubbed against her, a startling sensation shooting through her. Instead she buried her face in the crook of his neck, his name falling from her lips in a rushed whisper, “Royden.”

  “Lift your garments above your waist,” he ordered in a harsh whisper, moving just enough away from her for her to do so. “Now push my plaid aside,” he commanded impatiently.

  Again she did as he said and when she felt his hard shaft rub against her, she cried out. Over and over and over his shaft teased her and she pressed against him, aching for much more.

  “Royden,” she breathed harshly in his ear, clinging to him.

  “Look at me, Oria,” he demanded.

  She did as he said, lifting her head, their eyes meeting.

  “I want to see your face when I bring you to climax the first time,” he said.

  His hand dropped down off the wall to cup her bare bottom and shove her hard against him, his manhood grinding against her and shooting a sensation through her that completely engulfed her and had her dropping her head back to hit the wall as she cried out his name.

  The exquisite sensation ran through her and she pressed against him, demanding more from his manhood, refusing to let the pleasure fade away and then she felt it. He released his seed against her, thick and warm, and she wished, how she wished, he’d been inside her.

  His strong fingers dug into her backside, squeezing tight and something flared in her, though faded much too quickly. She dropped her head on his shoulder and she was glad that he continued to hold her, her legs far too weak to keep her on her feet.

  After her breathing calmed, he lowered her to her feet, her garment slipping down and covering her and his plaid doing the same to him.

  “Don’t wait too long to welcome me to your bed. I want my seed where it belongs, inside you, growing,” he said and stepped away from her. “I won’t enter you until then—until you welcome me, until you tell me you want me inside you, until you truly want to be my wife.”

  Oria stared after him as he walked out of the room, not looking back at her. He had changed. The thoughtful, mannerly man would have never braced her against a wall, never have ordered her to lift her garment or push his aside and done what he had done. The man she loved was far different now, far stronger, far more confident, far more commanding, and far more experienced when it came to coupling.

  How did she handle such a man?

  She wasn’t sure, but she would find a way.

  Chapter 11

  Royden piled stone on top of stone on top of stone without stopping. Sweat covered him and his breath was labored, but he didn’t stop, he wouldn’t let himself. He hadn’t been able to stop himself in the solar and it had all started with an innocent gesture—a caring touch.

  Liar! The accusation echoed in his head.

  Her touch had ignited what already burned in him. His anger at what happened to her, and how he hadn’t been able to protect her, left him with an unrelenting need to fully make her his wife. He had failed to do that years ago and her father had given her to another man. And while he would have loved nothing more than to consummate their marriage, he wouldn’t do so until she made it clear that she welcomed him, that she made her own choice to seal their vows forever.

  Unfortunately, not only his need, but hers as well, couldn’t be ignored or denied. He had done the next best thing to satisfy them both—and he feared what he had unleashed in himself.

  He had gotten more satisfaction without having slipped inside Oria than he had gotten from any of the women he had poked. And he had enjoyed even more holding her after it was done. He’d never felt as content as he had at that moment and he was already thinking of when they would share such a moment again.

  “You don’t need to prove yourself to us, Chieftain,” Angus said. “We’ve seen for ourselves what a strong, powerful warrior you are even though you have only one hand.”

  Royden stopped, the stone he held between his hand and stump, larger than he realized. He rested the stone in place, making sure it fit tight and looked to Angus, John, and Stuart. “I appreciate that, but it’s more about what I have on my mind—”

  “A woman,” Angus said, nodding his head and the other men agreed, their heads bobbing along with his. “It’s always a woman. And you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t with them. Stop waving at me, Stuart, you know it’s the truth. Not one of them makes a lick of sense.”

  “Is that so, Angus?”

  Angus cringed, sending a glare at Stuart for not warning him sooner, and turned to face Bethany. “I didn’t mean you, mo ghaol.”

  “So I’m different than the others, am I?” Bethany asked, a covered basket tucked in the crook of her arm.

  “That you are, mo ghaol,” he said with a confident smile. “And a lucky man I am to have you.”

  “You don’t have me yet, Angus, and don’t call me, my love. Don’t think I don’t know you’re after me for my cooking skills. You have a long road to travel before you’re a lucky enough man to be with me.” Bethany turned to leave, then stopped, and turned around. “You made me forget where I was headed, Angus. Now you’ll not get the sweet cake I was going to give you before taking the rest to Emily and Penn.”

  Angus grabbed his chest and stumbled back dramatically. “You wound me, woman. I favor your sweets, but I favor you more.”

  “That sweet tongue of yours isn’t going to easily charm me like it does other women,” Bethany warned. “And I’ll hear no more of it.”

  A slight smile broke along Royden’s face at the humorous exchange between the two. He was glad to see that his clan was healing, smiling, teasing, laughing. He had feared with the suffering and damage done to so many, they might never heal. But they were healing and he intended to make sure they remained strong and well-protected.

  “Bethany, my love, let me explain,” Angus said, hurrying to trail after her.

  John laughed. “That man’s got it bad and won’t admit it.”

  “He talked about her endlessly while captive.” Stuart shook his head. “I don’t know why he’s wasting time now that he’s home. He should tell her and be done with it.”

  “I would if I had someone. When we were first presented with those willing women, I couldn’t help but think how great it was, but then after a while it became meaningless. It was just a way to assuage a need. It didn’t fill the emptiness inside of me.” John turned a pleading look on Royden. “Please tell me you’re going to find a way to have more women join our clan.”

  “We need both men and women. You’ve probably seen that some of our clansmen returned with Oria and me the other day. I’m assuming others from the clan were also dispersed to other clans. I’m going to see about getting them home.”

  John’s smile beamed wide. “That would be wonderful.”

  “It would be nice to have our clansmen home,” Stuart said, returning to stacking the stones.

  Royden saw Penn approach, a basket in hand, an
d he kept his voice low when he asked with a nod toward the man, “What do you think of him?”

  “Seems decent enough, but I still question who it is he’s loyal to,” John said.

  “I agree. Was it truly love that kept him here or was he told to find a woman and claim this as his home?” Stuart asked.

  The three men turned silent, Penn getting closer.

  “Bethany sent me with some sweets and an apology that she hadn’t offered you any. She says Angus is to blame for that,” Penn said with a grin.

  The men couldn’t help but grin along with him, all but Royden.

  John and Stuart waited for Royden to take a sweet cake. Royden realized out of respect they waited for him to take one first. He grabbed one, though not hungry, but once he bit into it that changed and he reached for another one.

  He stopped before snatching another from the basket. “Emily and you have enough cakes?”

  “More than enough cakes and food, sir. Bethany keeps us well supplied of which we are grateful,” Penn said.

  Royden took another cake, leaving what remained for John and Stuart.

  “Tell me, Penn, how do I get my clansmen home?” Royden asked.

  He had planned on talking to Fergus about this, thinking the man had more influence with the leader of the mercenaries. However, he was curious as to how Penn would respond to such a request.

  “Sir?” Penn asked as if not understanding.

  “You’re no fool, Penn. You know what I ask,” Royden said, a touch of warning in his tone.

  Stuart took the basket from the man. “Our clansmen, you took them.”

  “We want them back,” John said and grabbed another cake.

  “And not only the warriors who were taken captive to serve your leader, but our women and children as well. I want them all returned home,” Royden said. “If you can’t help me with that, then tell me who can.”

  John and Stuart glared at Penn, waiting for an answer.

  “Talk with Fergus,” Penn said. “I can’t say for sure that he can help, but he would be the one to talk to.”