Loved By a Warrior Page 11
Tara chuckled.
“I fight for what is mine.” He grinned. “And that bread is mine.”
Reeve had half the loaf eaten and the other half sat in front of Tara for safekeeping, as he had adamantly insisted. It turned out to be a wise move on his part, for as soon as his brothers joined them, they berated him for not sharing. Reeve just grinned and kept eating the bread.
Tara still found it hard to believe her good fortune. Sitting here with this loving family was like a dream to her, and each day, she feared she would wake from it and be plunged back into her nightmare.
“Will you stitch with me while the men talk?” Mercy asked, as the meal ended.
“I look forward to it,” Tara said eagerly. “I think I will be able to finish the baby shirt I’ve been working on.”
“Perhaps you should rest,” Duncan said, looking to his wife with concern.
“Something wrong?” Mara was quick to ask.
“Nothing,” Mercy insisted. “I simply had a restless night.”
“She barely slept all night,” Duncan said, worry etched in the scar at the corner of his mouth.
“An uneasy stomach, that is all,” Mercy insisted. “And besides, stitching is like rest to me.”
“You’ll keep a watch on her?” Duncan asked of Tara.
“Of course, I will keep a good watch on her and tend to her needs.”
“That’s not necessary—”
“It is,” Duncan said with a finality that left no room for debate.
Mercy rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“I’m sure you’ll do the same for Tara one day,” Mara said. “It is the way with women.”
“Listen to mum, she’s right,” Duncan said.
“I’m always right,” Mara said with a sharp nod.
Bryce cocked his head to Tara sitting to his right, and whispered, “See who Reeve takes after.”
“I heard that,” Mara said, shaking her finger at Bryce.
Reeve laughed. “Forgot about her magical hearing, didn’t you?”
“It’s a mother’s hearing. Your wives will have it soon enough,” Mara said, her smile smug.
Carmag sent a conspiratorial glance to each of his sons before he said, “Husbands have no need to fear magical hearing since they confide all to their wives as their wives do to them.”
Mara chortled. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it, dear.”
That brought the men to full attention.
Mara looked over her rapt audience and smiled. “Someday, I may be gracious enough to explain that.” She stood, and her wide smile plumped her already full cheeks. “But I wouldn’t count on it.” She shooed at the men. “Now be gone on your business and leave us women to ours.”
Tara laughed along with Mercy as the men stood grumbling.
Reeve whispered to Tara, “Later.”
She smiled up at him and nodded.
As soon as the men had left, Mara turned to Mercy. “Tell me exactly what’s wrong.”
Mara’s direct nature could intimidate, but it was the concern in her voice that let you know how much she cared.
Mercy sighed. “I can’t truly say. I only know I don’t feel quite right. It’s as if something is wrong, but I don’t know what it is.”
Mara continued questioning. “Pains anywhere?”
“No, none at all,” Mercy said with a shrug. “I just don’t feel right. I know it doesn’t make sense, but that is the only way I know of explaining it.”
“Do as Duncan said and rest,” Mara said. “And if anything should bother you, let me know right away.”
Mercy nodded, and Mara hurried off after explaining that she had a lot to see to today.
Mercy laid her hand across her rounded stomach. “Even if there is something wrong, I doubt there is anything Mara can do about it.”
“I don’t know about that,” Tara said. “She’s a formidable woman.”
Mercy smiled. “She is at that, though kind and loving in her own way.”
“Let’s go to the sewing room,” Tara suggested. “You can rest, and we can talk while we stitch.”
Mercy nodded eagerly. “And you can tell me about you and Reeve.” She shook her hand at Tara when she tried to protest. “There’s no point in denying it. Something is going on between you two, and talking with a friend just may help you better understand it.”
A friend.
Tara was so happy that Mercy considered her a friend that she completely ignored the little niggling thought that kept trying to intrude. Could Mercy be ill and her babe at risk because the curse was once again haunting her? She didn’t want to know, didn’t want to think about it, and so she ignored it.
Reeve and his two brothers and father gathered in front of the fireplace, each pulling a chair close to the hearth. While a strong fire blazed, a chill still permeated the solar.
“Something is stirring with King Kenneth,” Reeve said after they were all settled.
“What goes on?” Carmag asked.
Reeve shook his head. “The person who shared the news had no idea. It seems that there is a well-kept, guarded secret surrounding him, few being trusted with the details.”
“Perhaps Neil could find out something,” Duncan suggested.
“His spying days are over,” Bryce reminded them, and smiled. “Besides, Etty would never let him place himself in danger.”
Reeve sat forward. “Etty our cook and Neil our spy together?”
Bryce grinned. “It’s a sight that warms the heart. And you don’t want to take a chance of annoying Etty.” He looked around the room at each of them. “I think we can all agree on that since the result would be mum cooking for us.”
They all cringed.
“I wouldn’t expect Neil to place himself in danger,” Reeve said, “but he may be able to point us in the right direction of who to talk with. It would help having another spy amongst the king’s trusted group.”
“But with the king suspicious of almost everyone, how would we get anyone to betray him?” Duncan asked.
“Coins and lots of them,” Bryce said. “There is always someone who will take a risk for a fat purse.”
“Bryce has a point,” Carmag said. “I’ll speak to Neil about it and see what he suggests.”
“Any other news?” Carmag asked.
Reeve shook his head. “Nothing. I delivered the message, heard the gossip about the king, and headed home.”
“Missed her, didn’t you?” Duncan said with a grin, then looked to Bryce. “I’m going to win the wager.”
“Are you looking for a beating, Duncan?” Reeve challenged, a smirk edging its way past his snarling lips.
Duncan laughed. “You’re beating yourself up so badly over this that you’ll have no strength left to fight me.”
“I am not,” Reeve insisted. “I’m simply seeing where it takes me.”
“Well, watch out,” Duncan advised, “you’re already falling, and when you finally hit”—he grinned and chuckled—“it’s going to be like something you’ve never felt before.”
“That’s why I won’t be falling in love anytime soon,” Bryce said.
Duncan laughed again. “That means you’re next since Reeve believed the same.” He rubbed his hands together. “Damn, I’m enjoying this.”
“Shut up!” Reeve and Bryce yelled out in unison.
Duncan laughed harder.
Chapter 13
Reeve was eager to see Tara. After finishing with his brothers and father, he had a few other matters to attend to and then he went in search of her. She wasn’t in the sewing room and neither was Mercy. He inquired about Mercy since she had mentioned she wasn’t feeling well and discovered that she had gone to her bedchamber for a rest.
Next he found his mother, but she hadn’t seen Tara since the morning meal. So he grabbed his wool cloak and left the keep, heading to Tara’s cottage. Snow must have started falling earlier, a good inch having covered the ground. Children ran around squealing with de
light and sticking their tongues out to catch the fat flakes.
The sheer joy on their red-cheeked faces had him smiling and thinking. He had assumed that one day he would have children, not soon, but someday. Now suddenly he found the idea more appealing than ever. He could just imagine playing in the snow with his son or daughter, perhaps both and possibly even more. He had always hoped he’d have a gaggle of children.
Reeve’s smile suddenly faded, old memories suddenly tearing at him.
“What stole your happy smile away?” Tara asked, coming up beside him and hooking her arm around his.
“Sad memories,” he said, and gave her a quick kiss.
“Share them with me?”
He didn’t think twice. “I recall the day in detail, though I was only four years when I lost my whole family. My father, mother, and older sister Netty were killed by King Kenneth’s troops, though he was not king yet, in a bid to take the throne.”
He paused a moment, seeing the past materialize before his eyes. “I had hid in the woods with Netty. She was ten years, and when she saw what was happening, she ordered me to stay where I was no matter what, and she ran to help our parents.”
He took a breath, remembering much too vividly the carnage. “I watched them all die and never moved until hours after the soldiers had gone. I don’t know what I would have done if Bryce hadn’t happened along. He found me sitting amongst my family’s bodies, crying. He gently took my hand and told me we were brothers now, and he would look after me. I went with him, never glancing back, though the scene remains far too vivid in my memory.”
“I am so sorry,” Tara said softly. “That had to be horrible for a lad of such a young age to witness.”
“It was,” Reeve admitted. “But if it wasn’t for Bryce, I would have never survived. I would have died along with my family, being too young to know what to do.”
“I thought you told me Bryce was only a year older than you.”
“He is, though he’s years wiser, always has been. He kept hold of my hand and spoke to me of how he had lost his family too and how he knew of a good home for us. And he’d get us there, and how, no matter what, we would always have each other. I clung to him and refused to let go. Even when we arrived on Mara and Carmag’s doorstep, it took weeks before I would leave his side.”
“You truly are brothers,” Tara said.
“That we are,” Reeve agreed, and took her in his arms. “Where have you been?”
“Looking for you.” She held up her arm, a basket hanging from it. “Your mother sent me to bring this to Kate.”
“I just saw mum, and she told me that she hadn’t seen you since breakfast.”
“She hadn’t until a few moments ago. And as soon as she told me that you had just been there, she shoved this basket at me and told me to catch up with you, that you would take me to Kate’s.”
“I best obey mum,” Reeve said teasingly. “You can easily miss Kate and Bailey’s place. It’s tucked behind newly wedded Cowan and Annie’s place.”
Tara shook her head. “Too many names and places to remember. I’m lucky my cottage is close to the keep.”
Reeve grinned. “And glad I am of that, for I can visit often.”
“As often as you like,” she said.
“Be careful, I may never leave.”
He noticed that she hesitated a moment and then, lowering her head, she whispered as if sharing a secret, “I wouldn’t mind that.”
Reeve didn’t respond, though her remark had gladdened his heart.
Kate’s pleasant smile, pretty face and lively nature welcomed them, and soon Tara and she were talking as if they were old friends.
Reeve stood waiting with more patience than he knew he had as the women chattered, Kate’s husband Bailey out with the hunting party for the day. He hadn’t realized that Kate was due to deliver any day, and he was pleased when Tara offered Kate whatever help she needed. He hoped that she was finally realizing that there was no curse on her and that life could be good if she would only stop worrying about the curse. If truth be known, it was more that words did damage to people than curses. Once someone set something in a person’s head, there was no getting it out. It took solid root and grew, being nourished by wagging tongues that had nothing better to do.
“Thank Mara for me,” Kate said as she saw them out.
They walked arm in arm, the snow falling heavier than only moments ago. Reeve directed them toward Tara’s cottage. He wanted some time alone with her. He’d been aching to kiss her, truly kiss her, since she had come up alongside him. And he wouldn’t mind more than kisses, perhaps a touch or two.
Damn, who was he kidding?
He wanted to couple with her, and that was all there was to it. He had had his share of women, some more exciting than others, but Tara was different. His attraction to her overwhelmed and consumed him.
He wanted to be with her, kiss her, touch her, talk with her, or simply hold her hand as he did now. And that wasn’t something he had ever experienced. He had never wanted to hold on, truly hold on, to a woman’s hand, and now with Tara, he never wanted to let go.
She stopped at her door and stepped in front, facing him. “You know if we enter, we will be kissing before the door closes.”
“Let’s hurry,” he teased.
“This is serious,” she scolded, though with a smile.
He slipped his hands past her cloak and settled them on her waist. “I take kissing you very seriously.” He eased her closer to the door as he took a quick taste of her lips. As soon as he did, he knew that was it. He wanted more.
She rested her hand to his chest. “We should—”
“Make up for the three days I’ve been gone when I should have been kissing you.”
“That is—”
“Lots of kisses,” he said, and connected with her lips again as his hand slipped from around her cloak to locate the door latch.
It clicked as her arms went around his neck. He had them inside and the door closed posthaste and they stood just beyond the door lost in a kiss.
Reeve wondered why each time he kissed her, she tasted more delicious. She had suddenly become nectar he couldn’t do without. He slipped off her cloak, letting it fall to the floor, and his followed. His hand went to her backside and urged her closer against him, not a wise move, since he swelled thick and hard with passion.
She startled for a moment and then settled nicely against him, a perfect fit.
He ended the kiss with nibbles along her bottom lip, eager to taste the slim column of her neck and once again explore her bosoms. He loved her bosoms, so plump, soft, and delectable, and all his.
He warned himself to slow down, take his time, but he had missed her so much when he was away that he simply wanted to get lost in her.
The thought startled him, and he knew if he didn’t slow down now, he wouldn’t. He would have her in bed in no time, and they wouldn’t be sleeping, not one wink all night.
He eased away from her and took a step back.
Her breathing was labored, her cheeks flushed red, and her eyes overflowing with passion. And damn if he didn’t want to grab her and make love to her.
“We should go to the keep,” she said, as if trying to convince them both.
“I don’t want to,” he said truthfully.
“Neither do I,” she admitted, “but it is too soon for us to—”
“Make love?”
“Will that be what we’re doing?”
He rubbed at his chin and walked around the table to distance himself from her, not trusting that his hands wouldn’t reach out and do more than take hold of her. “I don’t know.”
“How could either of us know? We’ve only met.”
“You have been wed how many times?” he asked.
“Once, though another died on our wedding day before vows were exchanged.”
“Did you love either man?”
She nodded. “I loved Rory, the one I never got to wed.”
She stared at him a moment, and he pondered the wisdom of his question. Did he truly want to know if she favored another man’s kiss over his?
“Rory stirred me with kisses,” she said softly, and her lavender-colored eyes deepened to a rich purple. “You consume me with yours.”
He smiled, pleased, though he had to know more. “Did your body fit as well with him as it does with me?”
Again, she paused, and again, he worried over the answer.
“We fit well enough.”
“That’s not what I asked,” he said. “Did you fit as well with him as you do with me?”
This time she didn’t pause or hesitate. “I thought so at the time.”
“And now?”
“Now I see that you and I fit as two parts that make a whole.”
“Perfectly put,” he said, glad that she felt as he did.
“When did you know you loved Rory?”
“When I first saw him,” she said with a sad smile.
“You needed no time to be sure?”
“None. I knew there and then he was the man I wanted as my husband.”
He suddenly felt a swell of envy for the dead man. “And what did you think when you first met me.”
“I knew you were the man who would save me.”
He was pleased with her answer and told himself to stop there. But he couldn’t. He had to know.
“Do you miss him making love to you?”
Tara closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them, tears lingered at the edges. “We never got to consummate our vows. Rory took a tumble before our wedding vows could be exchanged. He hit his head and died instantly.”
“How horrible for you,” he said. “I can’t imagine the pain you must have suffered.”
“My father gave me a little time to mourn and made arrangements for me to wed six months later.”
“You didn’t love this man?”
“I didn’t know him,” she said. “I met him on our wedding day. I did not find him appealing.”
“Then consummating your vows must have been difficult.”